Brotherhood of Thorns: Guild of shadows~Chapter 1

1.

New lands are only strange to those who are strangers in them

A mass of people brushed past the still confused, Adam, who stood awe struck by the tall fortress like buildings, and busy-body people in Abrisa. The ocean of bystanders began to wash away his courage, what little he had with him upon starting his journey. He was lost, no familiar mountains or animals, all foreign, strange, tall people, but he knew in this place with no help or kinship, he was the stranger. Large birds flew over head and perched themselves over top a venders market. Maybe he could ask for directions, anywhere was better than lost. The shiny grovel laid ground was new to him, having come from the exiles, the only place a human could go, cold air and mountain ranges were all he knew. This new nation he had made his pilgrimage to was warm, the air, unlike the cold smog of his homeland, was scented with autumn trees and the sites to go with it, anything was better than frost cutting at the tip of his nose.

          Adam weaved his way through the crowd of tall, pale-skinned, Abrisian, who were either very busy or just impolite, because in his own mind he felt invisible. He dropped his bag at his feet and leaned over the wooden counter of a fruit vender’s window. Before he could get his question out the vender began advertising his products. “Fruit here, fruit, he exclaimed, “A fine assortment of gulup, turntrop, and tutel-berry, all at low prices. The vender continued to shout over Adam as if he was a mile away.                                                          
       “Sir, hello,” he shouted, hands waving. The vender’s window was large enough for Adam’s torso to barely make it over. He wasn’t that short, but with the tall windows in the market place, he felt shorter than usual.                           
      “Do you have any durins?” the vender asked, focusing his gaze on Adam. “If not, get lost boy.” Durins were the form of money the people of Abrisa used for trade, every piece had the nations overlord engraved on the back, and the dark lord, who reigned over all, engraved on the front. Adam thought about the question and it reminded him of the exile lands. Currency was everything there, if you had none, your already miserable life would never change for the better. His mother would say it’s all about the dream and not the riches. Never the less, he found himself missing whatever activities were happening in his small village, poverty and position being the reason.

          The vender slammed his hands to the product table, “Boy, you’re holding up my business. I’ve got paying people to serve…people with durins.” Adam snapped back to his senses realizing he had no durins for the crazy vender.          

        “I…I have no durins…Sir,” he said slowly, hands clasped behind his back. “I’m a—,”                                                                                                                

         “A waste of my time,” the vender finished, shooing him off like a common fly. Some place this was, Adam thought. He picked up his bag and slung it back over his scrawny shoulders, continuing on back into the current of people.                        

Adam had hoped to find a life of adventure, some life that reaped its rewards and fulfilled his calling to purpose. For what it’s worth, that life began to flourish when he left from his village back in exile—the cold lifeless terrain, and the day-to-day routine. He had aspired to go off and venture the world, the only setback with that, the world was under oppression. The dark lord, little did Adam know, ruled, leaving little for the people of the world, much less the humans. Back at home, he was invisible, maybe now with a little luck, he could turn out to have a life worth reading about. This dream was a long shot, he knew, but a long shot attempted by his father before him. Of course, that was the hope, to follow in his father’s ghostlike footsteps. All he knew was that his father had left for the land of opportunity, to make his name, the land Adam now stood on.

          Now that he took time to think about it, he never knew too much about his father but the leaving part, oddly enough. At home, in the mountains, without a father to overshadow you, teach you, give you a name, nothing could be said of you. He never blamed his father for leaving, mainly because he always had a faint felling in the back of his head that his father would return with eminence or prestige. It never seemed to happen. The village leaders seemed to worry more about the problem than he had. Perhaps it was the risk his father took by leaving. Adam remembered his mother and father walking into the cold dead forest on that miserable day, only having his mother returning with a look of dismay on her face. She never said where he went or why, Adam had thought it because his father yearned for more, as did he. you’re father was special she would often say, maybe to remind herself that she wasn’t, assuming that was why he left. That was just it, it seemed like his father was the reason his mother lived, like she was the puppet and he the puppeteer.                                        

Her somehow smooth olive skin, after his departure, became pale, dark, and cold; her eyes were sunken from lack of sleep, and her silky black hair, now frizzy, lay drooped over her face. The eyes were the only thing in common between her and Adam, those deep gray eyes with touches of black slit into the iris. Her eyes gazed into what seemed to be an abyss, if she saw anything, however grim, it was surely not of this world. The shack he stayed in was a solace of silence, but strangely enough, still restless. The type of silence one couldn’t sit in, the silence that gnawed at his mind endlessly.

Conversation with his shell of a mother was always brief. She spoke in, what seemed like, riddles, never just speaking directly to him, always addressing some invisible crowd far off behind him. “Only you,” she would go on chanting, as if he knew what she meant. She always looked as if she was at a loss for words, mouth slightly open, back against the wall, staring out into familiar nothingness. Why had it not hit him like it obviously hit her?

***

          Abrisa, the nation that withstood throughout the ages, providing refuge to the many species of Abrisians during the Great War. Abrisians, during the Great War sought to remove the human threat, on account of human reproduction; the Abrisians bread through death of the father, the new child would spawn from his ashes, somewhat like a phoenix. The nation was known for its might—having the planets strongest army of talented warriors, trained, powerful, and ruthless. Seven countries made up the nation: Silex, Apio, Kuat, Batu, Kivi, and Atrum, the people of the shining skin. What made them more fearsome than the Obitians or the Proletians, were the different species, having abilities that were prized in war time. Extreme conditioning and supernatural strength were expected, but to run into an Abrisian with skin impervious to fire, worse, diamond skin, assured death.

          When Adam took the time to examine the creatures, he noticed their eyes where black, not everyone, but the occasional Silex cave Abrisians he would run into when perusing the inner-citys of Atrum, would normally have perpetually black eyes. Frightening, Adam would always think, if he wasn’t covered head-to-toe in robes and tunics he would stick out like a sore thumb.  Not every Abrisian appeared beastly, most looked like humans, with the exception of wide angled eyes and light blue skin.

As for the Atrum city capital, it was bustling with people, and the pathways were laid with shining gravel. Aside from the vending markets framing the square, temples crested the far hills along the many pathways, light beaming off their dome tops; these temples were Constant tributes to the shinning skin Abrisians, those impolite royal creeps that paid Adam no mind. As for the normal Abrisian, their homes where lodge in enormous cedar trees, looking almost like bird houses only much bigger. It was obvious the Abrisian were in great, even, superhuman condition. Were he not so short the city probably wouldn’t overwhelm him so much, but it did. Getting lost was easy not just because of the stampede of people and large cedar homes that connected levels of the city, more so, the maze like cityscape that perplexed him.

Feeling exhausted, Adam plopped down on a nearby bench, setting his over sized traveling bag in his lap. The pond before him glittered in the sunlight, he sat, relaxed, and took it all in. despite his confusion, he managed to find some peace staring out at the landscape. The tranquil breeze tickled past his cheeks, and a sigh of relief loosened his tense muscles. Warmth was new, and good.

Adam had planned to find a willing mentor of some famous trade—hunting, teaching,guarding, even farming would do—then off to adventure. But regardless of how hard he tried to overlook the thought, it persisted in tormenting him. What if there was no place here for a human. A familiar fear clenched his stomach, there had to be something out there for him, but what could he do? After all, he was just a human. The people of this land, however, were like stone, strength like beasts of the field, and speed like that of the wind, some would joke and say they were gods. Abrisa, happened to be the home to the notorious guild of shadows: crusaders, rich in combative skill, trained never to retreat, bounties and adventure there calling, they were glorious anarchist seeking power and honor. How great an opportunity to join those crusaders, Adam thought.

During his rest, Adam set his bag on the grovel ground beside him. not too long following, a hooded figure—what he thought had to be a man just by his hunched toddle toward him—sat beside him. Strange, he thought to himself, on account of a similar bench being right across from them. Wearing a white cloak that stopped mid shoulder, and a fine pair of brown trousers with a white strip down the sides, the man smelled like burnt candles, all this made him a very strange character in Adam’s eyes. He wasn’t the social type, so to have a strange man in a strange place sitting next to him, as if they were close kin, kept him on edge. 

Adam looked out of the corner of his eyes at the man and shifted his weight on the bench until he was facing him. Right as he began to speak, the man stood up and strode on like he had never sat there at all. Talk about being invisible, he thought. He ran his fingers through his flaky black hair and took in some fresh autumn air. It wasn’t long before he realized his bag was gone. Adam’s shoulders tightened and his heart began beating his chest. Suddenly it hit him. “That thief!” he shouted aloud, jumping to his feet. No one, from the look of things, paid any attention, to busy they probably all were.

Starting a light jog, Adam plowed through the mob of people that never appeared to die down; he bobbed through the crowed looking for that familiar white hood. That’s it, he thought, I lost him. Suddenly, grunts and splashes of metal lingered in the air. Adam followed the clashing sounds to the back allies of the vending markets, he saw a group of soldier surrounding a hooded man. That’s him, he thought. Reluctantly, Adam inched his way over to the mesmerizing altercation, taking one baby-step at a time.

The hooded man was encompassed by four savage Abrisian guards; he didn’t give an inch. He stood straight now no hunch in his back and his muscles shone through his tunic. Halberd in hand, he batted down the guards left and right, sparks dancing from his weapon. His moves were gracefully vicious, splitting wind, and blasting metal collided with the guard’s massive armor. Gusts of dust kicked up when the man swung his halberd. the conflict startled Adam, whose eyes were wide and heart pounding to the sound of shattering metal. He had never seen a fight, much less been so close to one as to be a part of it. He loved it; a primal sense of satisfaction came from it; he began to lose himself in it.

Seized by the moment, Adam fell prey to an ambush from an enormous guard. Pain split through his back as the cold steel penetrated his flesh. Blood seeped from his back and he sank to his knees. The guard stood over him, blade to Adam’s throat, pulling back his head. Adam looked on before him to the powerful battle as his vision faded; He swallowed hard only tasting blood. The guard prepared for the killing stroke.                                                                                                                  

*BANG*.                                                                                                               

Before the final blow was struck, a blinding flair, followed by a red tornado of dust, drowned the guards in hellish flame. Adam’s vision melted, the world began to tilt around him; colors began to swirl into a mesh of flames, nausea kicked up in his stomach, shocks of pain surged through his back. He went limp. Before his vision faded into blackness, an unfocused figure began to drag him away.

***

Adam awoke to a whining sound in his ears; his eyelids felt like weighted studs, pain once again flowed through his spin relentlessly. Past the whining sound, Adam could barely make out two voices arguing. He began to listen tentatively, still only hearing whispers.                                                         

“And you dare bring him before me,” a tired raspy voice said. Adam heard hacking and coughing. “And you’re sure he’s—”                                           

“human—yes, I think so—I mean, yes—his blood isn’t—Abrisian, great one.” A second voice said panicky. “His bag—I went through it…nothing of any value but Humus coins, and a letter written to him, great one.” The letter, it had been Adam’s guide.                                                                                    

 “I see, he’s human then,” the tired voice said, sounding annoyed. “What might he have been doing in Abrisa. Humans know of their banishment.” Adam’s eyelids slowly rose, his vision panned out, he could now make out a large room lit by six lamp stands emitting blue flames, and stairs that led to a large corridor, also lit with the same blue flames. Adam could see two figures slightly; one sat on, what looked to be a throne with two sentries on either side, and the other happened to be the hooded man he had chased down from earlier.                                                                                                                   

“Great one, if he’s human,” the hooded man leaned in close, “might he be of some assistance—to the guild I mean?” the man said, as if asking a trick question                                                                                                         

“Treachery…Raul, I despise treachery more than the dark lord himself.” The older voice was grim, and cold. “ the traitor allowing you to join in our campaign was risky enough…two-humans-to-many…my wisdom warns me otherwise.” Adam slowly swiveled his eyes for a better look. The old man sitting on the throne wore a hood like the other, this one purple, and his robe sleeveless, ending at his ankles, and slitting in the middle for walking; his silver streaked hair fell out from under his hood.                                                                                                                                                           

“Great one, show him mercy…why would a human travel this far inland without reason, let us but seek out that reason.” there was slight courage to his voice now, as if standing up for Adam. “Great one, I will keep watch of him…if he has potential, I will then train him, with your approval, he could serve the guild with his death.” A twinge of terror shot through Adam, as a burst of magma-fire flashed to life in the Great one's eyes.                         

 “You think me a fool?!!” the great one growled. “Let this human draw blade to my back as the last did, and his torment will be yours.” The old man’s eyes cooled into the dark shadow of his hood, Raul put a fist to his chest and bowed his head.                                                                                                      

 “Yes Great one, let me find serpent to his nature…I will slay him before he has the chance to show it.” Teetering on the verge of blackness, Adam could make out several more words.                                                                                              “He looks…from before…eye on him.”

          Adam fell into blackness, then entered into a dream of terror…..

Calvin Rutherford ~