CHAPTER ONE

Mina Retra was beginning to worry. It was near noon time and Daryl had still not returned from his regular forays into the forest. Oh, she knew Daryl was eighteen and was old enough to look after himself. Still, it was a mother’s duty to fret.

Really, Daryl was such a quiet and obedient boy before they moved into the town. It must be because of that elf-boy Re’an, she firmly told herself. Such a mischievous imp and she knew it from the start that he was bad company for Daryl. Now if only he would spend more time with that Shada. She is such a sweet and polite girl, Mina thought, smiling fondly to herself.

Daryl decided to interrupt his mother’s thoughts at this moment. “Mother, I’m back!”

Mina countenance changed to one of stern disapproval. “Why, Daryl, you’re filthy, what have you been doing?” she snapped.

“Nothing,” replied Darylwith an air of nonchalance. Spotting lunch on the table, he began to devour it with all the etiquette of a wild boar.

Mina pursed her lips, a definite warning sign. Daryl, however, was too preoccupied with lunch to notice his mother’s displeasure. Mina decided to let it pass.

“Well, go wash up after your meal, I want you to go and collect some things I ordered from the tailors,” She paused for a minute, then added as an afterthought “and don’t be late for dinner.”

“Yes, mother” Daryl said, with becoming obeisance.

Daryl cleaned off his meal and washed it down with some water. He dashed off, made a quick affair of washing off the grime and dirt and slipped on the cleanest tunic he could find in his room.

Leaving with a “be back soon, Mother”, he ran off towards the direction of the town.

Trefask was a bustling town surrounded by forest on the outskirts of its boundaries. It was not under tight Imperial control but had been declared a “protectorate”.

Daryl took in the familiar sights and sounds of the town, the red bricked buildings, worn but sturdy and the clashing of hammer on iron coming from the smithy. The street was filled with shop houses lining both sides with signs displaying their trade and wares. At the top right corner of the signs was a crest depicting a fist with a sword in its grasp, signifying that the shop was under Imperial protection, it also meant that they paid thirty percent of their profits as taxes to the Imperialists.

Daryl easily found his way to the tailor’s shop. Entering, he stated his name and business to the man at the desk, who counterchecked with a book at the desk and returned with a neatly wrapped parcel.

Judging by the sun’s position, it was a couple more hours before dinner time and Daryl decided he would kill time by meeting up with Re’an. Re’an’s father owned an inn which made quite a profitable business during the evenings. Despite his father’s admonitions, threats and pleas, Re’an had refused to take up the business. He was going to be a mercenary he declared. It was high paying and it wouldn’t bore the shorts off him.

Re’an as usual was not serving the customers like he was supposed to but sitting enraptured opposite a big burly man, who judging by all appearances and Re’an’s looks of admiration, had to be a mercenary.

Daryl decided not to interrupt Re’an’s moment with his idol, so when a customer called out for another jug of ale, Daryl obligingly got one from the counter. Re’an father was pleased to see Daryl. It was in his firm opinion Daryl was far more down to earth than Re’an andwasdefinitely more willing to lend a hand during the busiest hours.

The mercenary was draining down the last of the ale and upon leaving, took a gold coin out of his pouch and placed it on the table, muttered a few words to Re’an and left to join the bustling streets outside.

Daryl eased himself the mercenary’s seat. Re’an did not look up. Instead he gave a wistful sigh. “If only I was born as a mercenary’s child.”

“I’m sure your father, wishes that was so too,” replied Daryl, who was watching his friend toy with the saltshaker.

Re’an either did not hear that or chose to ignore it and continued speaking, “You know Garon says that there’s this scholar called Coren who’s coming to town tomorrow to restock before he continues on his journey. The word is he’s going through parts of the Wilder lands so he’s going to hire a couple of mercenaries to guard him and he’s willing to pay five hundred gold as a one tenth deposit.”

Daryl deduced upon hearing the tone of reverence that Garon was the recently departed mercenary.

Re’an looked up with light brown brows knitted in concentration. “You know, maybe we should give it a try, five thousand is a lot of money and a journey like that would be fun.”

Daryl while suitably impressed, was not deluded into thinking he could conceivably lay his hands on that amount of gold. He also had a strong sense of self preservation and the Wilder lands were just not the same as the forests surrounding Trefask.

But the gods knew that no amount of common sense was going to prevail over Re’an when he had an idea stuck in his head. Amiably Daryl agreed to go to the town’s square tomorrow afternoon just to appease Re’an; absolute failure beyond any doubt was the only sure deterrent to dash Re’an’s impossible fantasies.

“Re’an! Are you going to drag your lazy behind over here?” His father bellowed from across the room.

Although it had not yet reached sunset, Daryl scurried home anyway.

Within the shadows of the bustling crowd a pair of eyes silently watched him.