Prologue

the beginning

               He laid bloody, broken, and unmoving upon the steps to the Great Hall. As he slipped into and out of consciousness he began to recognize the faces that would stop and peer at him for a few moments before moving on without offering the slightest bit of assistance.

               They were the faces of old friends, some even of family, and yet they did nothing for him, refused even to finish the job so he would no longer have to suffer. His memories came back to him then as he fell into darkness yet again.

 

            “What is it”?

 

            “How should I know? I can’t remember the last time I saw a little kid riding on the back of a dog”?

 

            “Well, should we let him in”?

 

            “I don’t know”?

 

            “You’re no help at all”. The guards at the gate were unsure how to handle a young boy alone, riding what appeared to be a large dog and so they stood staring for a moment before one ran off to find their boss and get his thoughts. The other decided to see if the boy could speak.

 

            “Hey little man, what’s your name”?

 

            “Skonch. It’s not a dog, it’s a giant hyena”. The boy leaned forward on his scraggly looking mount and rubbed it behind the ears.

 

            “Giant? I don’t know about that son, it’s about the size of an Irish Wolfhound”.

 

            “He’s still a pup, he’ll get big soon enough”.

 

            “Macelwain”! A short stout man dressed in uniform instead of armor barked at the guard as he conversed with the boy.

 

            “Sir”! Macelwain spun away from the gate and snapped to attention.

 

            “Why are we keeping the gate closed in the face of a child”?

 

            “Sir, he is not a normal boy, sir”. Macelwain stepped aside and the General stepped to the gate. This was indeed not a normal boy. By his face he would have guessed the child was 7 maybe 8 years old, but by his build, nearly a teenager. And he wore only deer hide boots and breeches.

 

            “How old are you son”?

 

            “Not sure, I think about 8 winters”. Skonch slid off his mount and pulled a short sword and club from a pack sack.

 

            “There is no need for fighting son”.

 

            “My name is Skonch, and we are hungry, if you won’t let us in we need to hunt”.

 

Skonch had learned a great many things at a young age as does any parentless child, but one of the most valuable had been that adults hate to hear kids talk about going hungry. It was a tactic that had worked many times before…

 

            “There will be no need for that, Skonch. You are most welcome in ShadowGale”. The general unbolted the gates and motioned for Macelwain to open them, “come along now, and bring your dog”.

 

            “Oh, it ain’t no dog sir”, said Macelwain “it’s a giant hyena”.

 

            “Is that so”?

           

           “Yes sir, only it’s still a pup so it isn’t exactly giant yet”. Macelwain’s fun was cut short by a vicious growl from Chaos, the boys mount, as they passed.

 

            “He’ll be big soon enough” the boy muttered as they entered the gated city which protected ShadowGale, the larget stronghold in this middle land. To the north there were not such cities, just tribes of nomadic hunters and warriors, to the south cities much grander than this. But this would do just fine. A quick rest, some easy meals, and they would push on if only because it was all they knew how to do.

 

 

            “Skonch, holy buckets man, what happened to you”? His eyes lifted momentarily and he saw his old friend Jareb leaning over him. “Hang on brother, I’ll get you back to my laboratory” Skonch heard some low chanting and felt the weight leave his body, the relief of not having those stone steps biting into his back was heavenly. He felt as if he were floating. Another memory came to him then as he drifted back into the black.

 

 

            “Hey dog-boy, you should lick my boots, like a dog, dog-boy”! Skonch stood stolid and unmoving but unwilling to engage. He had learned in his short time here in ShadowGale that there is little tolerance for fighting in school. He learned that lesson on his first day in fact after he sent another boy to the infirmary with a concussion for stealing his lunch.

 

            “Yeah freak, lick his boots”! Waves of laughter followed as a group of a dozen kids or more had gathered around the two. Harry, the other boy, walked circles around Skonch and would dart in threateningly then back out before he was within range of Skonches fists. Harry was at least two years older, but still considerably smaller than Skonch and had no intent of getting into a scrap with him. But bolstered by his throngs of admirers he found himself in a quickly deteriorating situation.

 

            “Bark dog-boy, bark”, came the chant from the crowd.

 

            “Where is your ugly stupid dog anyway”? Harry had just crossed a line that Skonch would not ignore but before he could do anything a bright flash of light fired by his right ear. Harry opened his mouth to say something else and his tongue lolled out of it hanging down almost to his chest.

 

            “Whad haddened”! He attempted to shove it back into his mouth but it wouldn’t fit. Harry turned and ran back to the castle where the classrooms were then entire time trying to stuff his engorged tongue back into his mouth. Most of the onlookers followed some frightened, others curious.

 

            “Now who’s the dog boy”? Skonch spun about and saw a tall gangly kid, probably about 12 walking his way. The boy was wearing long robes, but they were dull and brown, like a clergyman might wear. “I don’t think he is going to call you that anymore”.

 

            “No instead now I get to get expelled for fighting again”.

 

            “Not going to happen. They won’t know who did it for sure, but they’ll know it wasn’t you. You couldn’t create a puddle if your can was on fire, and they’ll know it, if they don’t already. My name is Jareb, by the by”. He extended his hand and Skonch took it tentatively.

 

            “Skonch. But I guess you know that. Everybody around here knows who I am”. A tone of exhasperation mixed with irritation.

 

            “Yah, I guess they do. People around here have a hard time adjusting to anything out of the ordinary. I supposed it’s a trait that has served them well, not trusting anything they don’t already know protects them from the outside world”. Jareb lifted his sullen brown robes and smiled, “I really should get something more exciting, but these work so well”.

 

            “You keep saying ‘them’ not ‘we’, are you not from here”?

 

            “Nope. I’m from Kronoas, the bay city at the southern end of the country”. Skonch had heard of it, Jareb could see the recognition in his eyes.

 

            “Then why are you here, attending school”?

 

            “My dad sent me here. I got into a bit of a scrape with one of my professors and there was some concern that the issue was going to get out of hand so my dad shipped me away”.           

 

            “Oh”. Skonch didn’t really care to hear the story so he changed the subject.

 

“Well, shall we call ourselves friends then”? It sounded unnatural and forced, but he had never been particularly eloquent with words.

 

            “I think we shall”, Jareb wrapped his skinny arm around Skonches thick shoulders and they walked into class together.