The Guardians
Chapter One


The sun and it’s intense heat hung lazily over the western horizon, and her golden eyes followed it, her mind elsewhere. Hamana was not happy; in fact, she was infuriated, and the mere thought of what that man did to her made her hands tighten into painful fists. She looked down at where her fingers were wrapped around nearly three feet of what was once her luxurious, fiery red hair. Her grip loosened slightly before her hand clenched down around the braid in anger. She couldn’t believe her so-called master chopped it off while she was sleeping. It was cruel, unfair and humiliating; only men and children had hair that wasn’t grown past her shoulders… Her hair was now even shorter than most men’s, cropped just below her ears. She couldn’t even pull it back away from her face; she couldn’t see how this would be a benefit to her in close combat…

Her eyes slowly followed a caravan that was returning to the little village-town of the Eastern Desert tribe, and she sighed. There was no use being angry; screaming at him until her throat ached did no good, and it wasn’t like there was anything she could even do about it now. With a grunt, she stuffed her braid in her pouch, stood and then returned to the hovel that was her master’s home.

She always heard the story of his mysterious appearance from all the tribes-people; the women loved to gossip. It’s common knowledge of the entire kingdom that the people and the desert, and the people of the north generally do not go out of their way to socialize. The people of the north think of the desert tribes-people as heathens who were exempt from the laws of the monarchy, and the desert people believed the people of the north were arrogant, stuffy closed-minded imbeciles. Only the eastern tribe would willingly interact with the fair-skinned citizen’s of the monarchy, but only once a year, and only for a month. The eastern tribe bred the best horses in all the land, and once a year, at the Great Fair in the Great Plains south of Demor, they would take their horses to trade and sell. The profits made them a richer people than even the royal family.

That’s why it was so shocking when fifteen years ago, two weeks before the summer solstice festival, the strange northern-man appeared on the outskirts of the village. He did not ask for assistance as he settled into a camp against the rocks of the mountains, nor did the villagers offer any. Everyone expected him to die, and at night they watched for his cooking fires, and every night they burned brightly.

Mana’s mother, Mayasa’s stomach was swelling from her pregnancy, and Mana was born just one second into the summer solstice. During the course of the day, only one other baby, a boy, was born, and late that night when the solstice was just about over, the strange northern-man just appeared in the birthing house.

He was young, around his mid-twenties, and despite the harsh environment, the young man was impeccably clean and neatly shaved. His loose and lightweight robes were tidy, and his hair was trimmed short and precise. There wasn’t a speck of dirt or dust on his form. That instantly told the tribes-people that this was no ordinary man.

Though the desert was a territory of Reldane, the different tribes all had their own language in did not normally speak the Common Language, nor did they openly teach strangers their secrets. So when the young man began speaking in their tongue, the room went into a shocked silence.

“I’m Aram,” he introduced himself, “I’m not here to impose myself on your people and your ways, my destiny has brought me here to train one of your children in the ways of true magic.”

Now, the desert tribesmen thought very highly of destiny, and like any normal person of this realm, greatly respected true magic and its wielders. Anyone could learn the craft of a magician, resorting to trickery and the naivety of the mind, and there were many women-folk who played with herbs and incantations and the moon to practice witchcraft. Sorcerers were feared and exiled as they called upon powers of demons and the devil himself to bend the world to their whims, but true magic was of the earth, and those who contained it’s power were blessed by the great mother to use the forces around us to aid them.

To find out that one of their children would be blessed with such strength and knowledge sent shivers down each and every one of the listener’s spines. Gladly they would offer up their children to this man for that kind of prestige.

In quiet anticipation, they allowed Aram to inspect each of the children. He had simply lifted their left hand and peered at their wrist. He had first checked the boy, and silently dismissed him with a shake of his head. Then, hesitantly, he had approached Mana, and after a quick look at his wrist, he nodded, and said, “Her. She’s the one.”

Now, Mana’s father, Rais, the chief the tribe, already excited by the birth of his daughter, had jumped out of his chair and went to grab Aram by the shoulders and easily swung him around the room with joy.

Four years later, Mana had been brought to him to begin her instruction while she simultaneously learned the duties of a female.

She certainly felt she was a well-rounded young lady for being of only fifteen-years. She could cook, clean, mend any item of clothing or injury, read and write, shod a horse, throw a dagger with the uppermost accuracy, break someone’s neck with her bare hands, and conjure fire into her hands that she could wield like any weapon.

“Hamana, I’ve been looking for you,” Aram said as she entered what he called his home. It was something that could not have been made any normal way, like the stone homes that the tribes-people had carved out of the mountain rocks. His small abode was made perfectly out of one giant stone. The walls were perfectly smooth, and he had even managed to carve his furniture right out of the rock. Even if it were possible for someone to carve with tools, it would take many years. Aram had completed it by the time Mana had come under his tutelage. He had to have constructed it with Magic. Mana always tried to get him to teach her how, but he insisted that no matter how hard she tried, the only element she would ever be able to master would be fire.

So that was what he taught her, when he wasn’t insisting on teaching her what she deemed useless information.

“It’s time for your history lesson,” he informed her as he opened a book out on his table. She sighed audibly, with a purpose, as she slid into the seat across from him. History lessons went under the category of useless information. So she adjusted the pillow that cushioned her stone-chair, and stuck her feet out towards the fire was going in the fireplace, cooking their dinner of stew, and tried to at least pretend she was paying attention.

“We’re starting where we left off,” Aram announced, “with the death of King Ander. Now, Hamana, if you did your homework you should be able to recite the following events. Start.”

With a roll of her eyes, she did what she was told. “The death of King Ander was expected, and instead of dying peacefully and following the normal laws of inheritance, he did just the opposite and bestowed the crown to his younger son instead of his oldest before he died. So, Varen became king, and Gregor went to be an ambassador abroad.” She tapped her nails on the rock table as she recited the not-so-distant history of the country. “Varen married Queen Edanae, they had a baby, and then Varen died. Gregor became king, and married his brother’s wife, and for ten years, he ruled the kingdom.”

Aram nodded. “Correct, but what happened once Gregor became king?”

”The country fell into complete chaos. Varen’s supported rebelled since they expected conspiracy, and Gregor had to react. He violently and ruthlessly suppressed the rebellions, which then sent Reldane into a civil war. Crops and farmsteads where destroyed, and the country went into a famine. Money that should have gone to relief for the people went to supplying his troops with armor and weaponry. The war lasted for three years before he finally captured the leaders of the rebellion and had them publicly executed in Galintha. The country was in a sorry state until Gregor’s son killed him five years ago and took the throne for himself.”

“And what’s changed since Larik’s become king?”

Mana let out a long, drawn out sigh. “Everything. He’s raised taxes, but has since provided relief funds for family’s devastated by the roads. He’s improved the roads, which has increased trade. He’s even built schooling facilities open for anyone who can afford it, or find a patron.”

“And how did the public react?”

“They rebelled against the raise in taxes,” she answered with a smirk. It wasn’t hard to find the proof that the northerners were a stupid breed; they provided everything themselves.  “Master, why is any of that important? Can’t we focus on, maybe my magic? I haven’t yet completely mastered throwing the fire into a spiral. Can’t we do that instead?”

“Hamana, these are things you must know. We’ll have time for you to practice your fire-mastery later, but only a short time for you to learn about the country.”

Mana frowned. The way he said that… something was wrong. He was normally a rather cold, but confident man, but as he spoke, he sounded unsure.

“Master Aram… What do you mean? Is something happening?”

Aram stood and went to the fire, stirring the pot that hung over the flames. Despite the eleven years since she first remembered seeing him, he looked no different. His hair was still cropped short and dark, he was always neat, never a stray whisker on his cheek or chin. His expression was always carefully schooled, never letting anything loose. He always was cold, distant, never letting anyone get close. It had hurt Mana at first, but she has since gotten used to it.

But in this moment, she saw the look of worry on his face. That scared her.

“It could be nothing, but I’m afraid our time here has run out here even it turns out that way. The day after tomorrow you and I will head north to Jashire. There I will meet with my brothers, and we will decide what will happen next.” He turned to look at her, and actually gave her a small smile. “You will have tomorrow to spend with your family and say your farewells. Pack light, secure two of your father’s horses for our journey.”

At first she was shocked, but then a thrill of excitement tingled down her spine and she jumped up. She pulled the map Aram had made her study out of her pack, then rolled it out across the table, grabbing a candle to see better. She found her Jashire on the coast, then measured the distance out with her fingers.

“That’s nearly a thousand miles…” she said with a whisper.

“A little more,” Aram corrected. “We’ll head to Olear first. That will take about three days. Then for Olear, we’ll go to Demor, which should only take a day. Then from Demor, we’ll go straight to Jashire, which I estimate should only be another three days…”

Mana gave a slight nod, finally understanding why he had spent so much time educating her on the ways of the northern people. He had taught her their history, their customs, their language, written and spoken. He never planned on leaving her once she had mastered her magic; he had planned on taking her with him the whole time.

** ** **

They left early in the morning before sunrise. Mana thought it was a ridiculous time to get up, but she reluctantly got up. She dressed and wrapped herself in her cloak and head scarf, and once she had her pack, she went to the stables where Aram waited for her. He saddled a chestnut mare that had been provided, and Mana saddled up her blood-bay stallion, Haidar. He was about as pleased as she was at being roused from his sleep. She rubbed his muzzle in greeting, mumbling, “I know, I know, I don’t like it anymore than you do.”

After both horses were saddled up, and their packs were strapped on, they lead their mounts out of the stables and towards the gates of the village. It was always cool in the desert at night, and the Eastern Village was up enough in the foothills of the Southern Barr Mountains that frost had settled on the sparse vegetation and the rocky ground. They rode all day, taking short breaks to eat, and water their horses, and found a shelter among large rocks before the sun went down. And once again, before the sun came up, they set out on their second day of traveling.

Aram’s estimations proved to be very accurate, about around midday they reached the village of the Northern Tribe. Outside the Village gates they stopped for a breath and used a nearby mountain stream to water their horses and fill their leather water bags. Before an hour passed, they headed out again,  this time along the outer edge of the desert. It was shortly after the sunset the next day that they finally reached Olear and secured a room in one of the Inns.

The rest of the trip was basically the same. Over the next five days, they camped in the wilderness or stayed a night in the Inn until they finally reached the port city of Jashire.

Mana was amazed and the vast change in scenery, though she would be reluctant to admit it. From the small, dry grasses and sparse shrubs of the sandy and rocky terrain where she grew up, vibrant green grasses that grew well up past her knees in places suddenly surrounded her. There was water flowing abundantly in small creeks and large rivers, and trees were everywhere. It was a very big shock, though she had heard all about the lush valley’s and forests of the north, but she hadn’t actually expected them to look so beautiful. She couldn’t believe how comfortable the grass was to lay on when it was cropped short by grazing animals, and when they finally reached Demor and she saw the lake it lay beside, she was awestruck that any body of water could grow so large. She thought that Lake Demor had to be the largest body of water in the entire world until they crested a hill that overlooked the port and the ocean that lay beyond it.

”It’s unbelievable!” Mana exclaimed as their tired horses finished the last stretch of the journey. It was nearing midday, and the travelers and their steeds were ready for a well-deserved rest and their midday meal. “It must take days to cross!” she continued on about the ocean. “It looks like it could fill the Harsham! It must be able to supply water to the entire country!”

“You don’t listen to your lessons well, do you girl?” Aram asked dryly with a hint of an amused tone. “The ocean consists of salt water, you can’t drink it. And it’s much larger than the desert. It could take months, not days to cross it.”

Mana frowned. “I listen, it’s just been awhile since we’ve talked about the ocean,” she replied defensively before nudging Haidar into a easy gallop towards the city’s gates. She heard Aram’s horse’s hooves pound the hard packed earth road behind her.

Once they got through the guard’s questions at the gate and were into the city, Mana expected she would relax considerably. Instead, she was bombarded by noise, smells, and of course, sights that completely overwhelmed her. Her gripped tightened on her reign as she pushed down the vulnerability she felt into the bottom of her stomach. She was not so weak of a person to be intimidated by a change of scenery, even so, she closed in on Aram, riding beside him.

“Why are they staring at me?” she finally asked once she noticed that everyone they passed stopped and stared at her before turning to their neighbor with excitement.

“Your race, of course. You’re a desert tribesman. They see you practically as a different species. They’ve probably never seen anyone from the desert this far north, and only heard rumors and stories of your kin, which could range from cannibalism to stealing babies out of open windows.”

“But how do they know that I’m from the Harsham?”

“Look at the people around you, then note what differs from you and them; your bronze skin, your golden eyes. Your clothes are lightweight and colorful, while theirs are sturdy and conventional. Not to mention your head-scarf, which has yet to make it into popular fashion trends.”

Mana scoffed. “I admit I am an attractive girl, but I am not that exciting.”  At Aram’s bark of a laugh, she smiled, and they made their way to their inn.

As they rode through the cobbled streets, Aram refreshed her on the layout of most northern ports. The inn they were staying in was in the commons in the center of the town. It was were pubs, eateries, music halls and theater were located. By the water was the wharves, docks, and more raunchy attractions such as the brothels and of course, more pubs. Around the commons were the marketplace and shops, the trade’s quarters, and the wealthier resident’s homes.

Their inn was nice, though it was considered to be average. It was clean, well priced, offered dinner for it’s patrons, and had it’s own bath house. Aram booked two single rooms after a stable boy took their horses, then led Mana to the dining hall. It was nearly empty this time of day, and the rushes strewn over the floor were still fresh. A spit with a large pig roast was over the warm fire for the night’s supper, and the windows were open to let in a salt water breeze.

They ate stew the Innkeeper’s wife had made for supper the night before, with bread that was a day or two old, cheese and rich goat’s milk. Once they ate their fill, they retired to their rooms. They had been provided with the finest the Inn could offer, thanks to Aram’s purse. A small common room joined Mana’s bed chamber, and Aram’s, giving each the privacy they needed from each other, and strangers.

Mana settled into one of the sitting chairs, holding her pack on her lap as Aram went to the window and opened it. Almost instantly, a grey falcon flew in and perched on the back of one of the empty chairs, a note clutched in it’s talons.

Mana’s eyes widened from shock, but she managed to keep down a startled shriek, though just barely. Aram was not surprised to see the bird, and he calmly took the note from it, unfurled the letter and read it. Once the note was taken, the bird took off, straight out the window.

“My brother’s waiting for me. Apparently we are the first two arrive, and the others will be here within the next few days,” he said as he tucked the note into his tunic. “I’m going to go out and meet him. Now would be the best time for you to use the bathhouse. It should be empty.  Take a knife for protection, but do not kill anyone. Disarm, maim, render unconscious, all that is fine, but if you kill anyone, I’m afraid I wont be able to protect you from the authorities.  While I’m gone, I’d like you to stay within the Inn’s gates. Do not leave; the people’s reception of you  may not be friendly.”

Mana nodded with a roll of her eyes. She couldn’t stand when he treated her like a child. She was far from one. She hadn’t thought of herself as a child since she was ten, and even less so once her body went through the change…

“I mean it,” Aram warned, as if he read her thoughts. “Behave. I will not hesitate to lash you if you cause trouble.”

Mana groaned, but nodded again. “I’ll behave. When will you be back?”

“Perhaps not until late,” he informed, draping a fresh cloak over his shoulders. “Do eat if I am not back by supper, and watch the spiced rum, ale, or wine. You don’t need to be drinking those, you’ll need your senses about you.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll go have a bath, then,” she complied, getting up and gathering fresh clothes for herself out of her pack. Her traveling clothes were well enough, but she hadn’t worn anything else since they had left her home, and they were covered with dust, dirt, and she hated to admit it, but they did not smell pleasant.

She had a nice, long soak in the baths, enjoying the hot water, and the select oils that had been provided. When she returned the room, clean from her skin, to her clothes, Aram was gone. With a smirk, she sat back down and laced up her boots. She would behave, but she would not stay cooped up in the inn with nothing to do. Her body aching and sore from the constant riding, and she needed to stretch out the aches and pains. It was nothing a little exploring wouldn’t fix.

She hesitantly left her head scarf behind, telling herself she was not in the desert anymore. She didn’t need it to protect herself against the sun, wind or sands. Instead, she opted for a light traveler’s cloak, and pulled up the hood to mask her distinct features. Without anymore reluctance, she ventured out into the city.