A Matter of Honor

A single star fades, another appears
Yet lost amidst the pain and fears
Will the bane unknown be hidden in strife
To live not in death, yet live not in life

The one who is born with power to wield
With only his honor to be his shield
Can he destroy the dark to come
Lest he should fail and to evil succumb

Prologue

S.A. 2931

The voices spoke in hushed undertones. Poorly lit, the chamber left the faces in shadows; the gleam of their eyes was all that could be seen, peering from the darkness. Outside, the sky was dark; they would be coming soon. The silence was that of a resigned company—one waiting for the doom to be foretold. Every breath, every movement, every anxious though seemed to be heard. The air was thick was fear—with every miniscule breath one felt likely to drown in it. The fear seemed as though it was alive… a serpent snaking around the hearts of the brave and strangling the courage.

The sounds of relentless steel sounded through air; breathing grew ragged. The dark corridor was suddenly alive with soft whispers.

“Shh, silent, little one. We’re going to play a game. You must be silent and hide until I find you. You can not make a sound, or you’ll lose the game for all of us. And you don’t want Ahran to lose this game now, right? Please be quiet, my child.”

Her voice was gentle as Kaeze Annika attempted to soothe her son, yet to reach the age of seven years. “If anyone finds you, it is crucial that you remember to say that you are called Bane. Can you remember that?”

The small child nodded his dark head, his eyes wide and fearful. “What’s going to happen?” asked the boy. His voice held an odd comprehension and wisdom beyond his years. He clung tightly to his mother’s hands as the steady crackle of the torches filled his hearing. It was cold; he could see his breath as he tried to feel the body warmth of his mother. The boy fought down a shiver as a sudden chill passed through the corridor. He almost thought he heard a crash and a scream, even as his mother flinched ever so slightly.

The flickering flames of torches in the stone walls, which enclosed the two, danced across Annika’s face and were reflected in her mysterious, midnight eyes. Her raven hair fell, mussed, down her back and the dress required of a Kaeze was rumpled. Annika’s hands trembled slightly as she smoothed back her son’s hair for what she knew to be the last time. Tears desperately threatened to fall as she gazed upon her son.

“Shh,” she repeated, “I have to go now, my child.”

Sounds echoed down the corridor. With what felt like her heart being torn apart, Annika kissed her son’s forehead and placed him in the passage camouflaged with the wall. Her hand remained in his; she could not seem to bring herself to pull away. This was her son she was leaving; her son she was gently reassuring with lies! As the agony of her grief threatened to take over her mind, and the power which lay silent within, she pulled her hand away and closed her eyes.

Annika carefully and silently shut the door, whispering that she loved him, and would always love him. She then slipped down a different passage; she did not look back as a tear slipped from her eye.

“May you know always that I love you.”

Annika clung tightly to her dress, lifting it up enough off the stone passageway to enable her to run. Her steps were silent; all that could be heard was her soft breathing. As she neared the end of the corridor, she waved her hand behind her, and the torches’ flames were snuffed. She was left in utter darkness as she finally stopped sprinting along the passage. She put her head against the wall she knew to be there as she began silently invoking the prophecy.

Kaeze Annika felt the familiar warmth in her mind as she called upon all her magic, knowing that she was past the point of no return. A jade flame appeared in her right palm. Reaching up with her left, Annika let the flame slowly grow as she heard crying and yelling from the corridor just through the wall. As the flame grew so large that, had she been a novice, it could have engulfed her life force and body, she closed her eyes and thrust the flame into the ground.

The telltale shakings of an earthquake began as she thrust the wall open before her with raw energy. There was a balcony she knew to be ahead of her, a balcony she needed to get to in order for the magic to be complete. As she reached it, the passage behind her empty now because of a small invocation she had cast, she touched her hands to her temples.

“Lasciare queste parole aiutano tutto il nel bisogno, potere il mio amore riempe i miei pensieri e la mia energia, lasciare questo è per Dio,” Annika murmured, slowly raising her hands, concentrating completely on her words.

Clouds suddenly began to cover the night sky, creating an ominous tension as lightening struck down. As the bolt of energy hit the earth, it collided with the energy of Annika’s flame, and the great earthquake began.

Looking down, Annika could see the armies of her people, and knew that her husband to be at the front, prepared to die for his people. The two would not die in each other’s arms; one of the many sacrifices that had been forced to make in order to give their people a chance against Meillor. Her son now remained the last hope for Torin, once the most powerful realm in Tiernan.

Annika nearly lost her concentration as she almost wept for the future of her son. To lose concentration would be to destroy life at the energy level she was at now.

Kaeze Annika raised her eyes to the clouds above and, clearing her mind, brought down a bolt of raw energy, not watching where it hit, not feeling the tremors of the newly brought earthquakes, and trying not to think about how her husband fought below and how her son would never truly live.

It was the next bolt of energy which caused the very earth to split.

Bane, he would be called; Bane of his people, Bane of the Dark, Bane of the Light, Bane of Honor, Bane of the Prophecy.

Bane who would never know love.