Chapter 2

James’s mother Catherine stared out of the small cottage window into the fields near the woods just in time to see her son disappear into the forest. She noticed, just as James had, that three of the horses were standing in a semi-circle looking very suspiciously at something that wasn’t there. She squinted just a bit as if it would help her failing eyesight.

“That boy isn’t going to run this ranch for long. Our horses don’t like him and he doesn’t know a thing about breeding.” James’ father Paul said as he made his way inside. His wife simply walked over to a kitchen chair and slumped into it, exhausted.

“I don’t think they care for us too much either anymore. We’re growing distant from it all.” Catherine stated. Paul exhaled a deep breath and stared at Catherine. The two of them used to have a very strong relationship with the horses they raised. When James was merely an infant it was almost as if the horses were simply renting space on their land. They would come running to greet either of them when they entered the fields and eat straight from their hands. At any point if a buyer was having any trouble Paul would visit the horse and the behavior would change immediately.  They were both legends in town when it came to raising steeds.

As life began taking its toll on them, Catherine and Paul grew distant from the horses and James assumed a majority of the chores around the ranch. Unfortunately, James never developed the same sorts of skills his parents naturally had; for him it was merely a job to take care of. Both Paul and Catherine had noticed this, but never mentioned it James. They had assumed he would take over the ranch eventually, but as time passed that notion seemed less and less likely. Even their costumers notice a change in the horses’ behaviors as they were raised. Paul feared that he had passed his peak and the downward trend in quality was unavoidable. Catherine had more prophetic feelings; she was convinced the horses sensed their time was coming and where no longer as engaged with them because of it.

“I know. But I’m too old to be out there all the time and the boy’s never taken to them as we had.”

“I think it may be more than that.” Paul turned to his wife. She was usually more in tune with nature than him in general, but he thought this might still be a bit of a stretch.

“What, do you mean something more ominous?” He chuckled as he buried his face back in his book.

“I’m serious.” She replied with a furrowed brow, her typical way of showing some subtle anger. “They don’t respond to either of us the way they used to. They seem off in their own world at times.”

“Of course they don’t; we spend a fraction of the time we used to with them, besides, they’ve started to catch on that we aren’t the ones with food anymore.”

“No. It’s more than that.” She said with a shaking head. “Don’t you feel distant from them?”

Paul stood up and looked back at the window. It was true. He couldn’t name every horse without being close up to them. He used to be able to point each out from a great distance based on their demeanor. He knew each horse’s name and ages. He knew their daily habits and could pick each horse from another based on their personalities. As of late he could barely tell without inspecting each. He knew it was discrediting his business but couldn’t find the energy to spend all day in the fields with them. Catherine hadn’t ridden a horse all year. Paul didn’t want to press her about it because he was afraid she may fall and seriously hurt herself. His business was fading away from his eyes rather than being renewed by James.  Still, Catherine feared something more sinister was afoot.

“Maybe we could have James whip up some potion to get them into shape. He spends enough time with those fools out in the woods he should at least be able to do something useful for us.”

“Don’t discourage that boy!” Catherine scolded. Paul didn’t look towards her because he already knew the facial expression she was making.  “He’s moving on with the rest of the world. The horses are too. I’m just afraid this new world may be moving too quickly for us.” Paul looked back out the window. All of the horses were out of sight. His heart sank a bit as he realized they had become completely independent of him.

“You really think it’s them and not us?” He asked cautiously.

“Well, I know one thing for sure; horses move faster than humans.”

Out in the woods, James was trying to keep up with Malcolm. “Will you hand me the lye. Please very carefully.” Malcolm muttered. James gingerly placed the jar in Malcolm’s hand. Malcolm’s upper body leaned away from it as he slowly placed it on the counter next to the pot of boiling water. He measured the correct amount with his scoop from his belt and very cautiously poured it into the pot.  Most of the pots used in the lab were composed of copper, but when making soap Malcolm used an iron pot so it would not react with the ingredients. Ordinarily Malcolm moved very fluently throughout the lab, but James noticed that he was being quite a bit more conscious after nearly destroying his hands. James had assisted with the soap making process many times and was as familiar with the recipe as Malcolm was. As soon as Malcolm started adding the lye there was a knock at the door.

James made his way to the door and looked through the peephole to see who it was.

“One of your friends?” asked Malcolm without turning from his work.

Outside the door, Michael stood peering in with a big smile smeared across his face. Michael was the sort of person who always felt comfortable around other people; his problem was getting girls to feel comfortable around him. Michael was loud and proud. He never hesitated to speak his mind and he figured everyone should listen to what he had to say. He was Michael after all! This occasionally led to trouble, especially when there was drinking involved.

Michael and James had met a few years earlier when Michael’s parents moved him from a larger city up north down to Verron. His father was a builder looking for work in a smaller area. He was getting old and building larger structures in cities was getting to be too much for him. He preferred to work on simple cottages; it was a much easier way to make a living and was significantly less dangerous. Michael considered the move an uprooting from where they belonged to “hickville,” as he referred to it. Verron was quiet compared to his hometown, even in the city center. Michael had grown up accustomed to constant noise and light. It might have explained why he was so noisy himself.  Every weekend he would try to drag James west to Vordenport to spend time in the city. Being around Michael was exhausting for James, who would rather spend the weekend quietly reading or exploring the woods. Michael didn’t even know how to read, and he thought nature was boring. They really didn’t have much in common at all, but James was Michael’s only real friend in Verron. It may have been because he was the only person patient enough to put up with him.

“Sort of…” James replied as he opened the door for Michael. Michael wondered inside while shaking his head, his brown shaggy hair flopping about. As soon as he got inside he leaped high into the air and grabbed onto a wooden rafter. After pulling himself up he sat comfortably up by the straw roof.

“We have chairs you know.” Muttered Malcolm, although he figured even if Michael was paying attention he wouldn’t get down anyway. Michael’s constant antics were a little too much for Malcolm to deal with.

“What are you doing this weekend James?” asked Michael while swinging his small shoes back and forth under his ripped baggy pants.

“Chores.”

“Wrong!” said Michael with his bright white I’ve-planned-something-without-your-consent smile. “We’re going to Vordenport. My cousin said we can crash at his place for fah-ree!”  James shook his head while continuing to clean up old pots in the wash sink.

“There’s no way my parents are going to do my chores again this weekend.”

“Can’t you find somebody else to do them for a weekend?”

“Somebody might already be doing them. The horses were all taken care of this morning before I even got up.”

“Perfect, it’s all set then.”

“Funny. Doubt it. It was weird; my parents didn’t see anybody feeding them. I thought maybe it was that little girl who comes over to pet them, but there’s no way she could lift the feed bags.”

“Only you would question getting out of work.” Michael rolled his eyes, but Malcolm cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow.

Then there was another knock on the door. James was still washing dishes so he asked if Michael could get the door. Michael let out a long breath. “I mean, I would, but I exerted too much effort getting up here so I don’t think I could manage opening that heavy door.” James rolled his eyes and marched back over to the door. This time it was Bartholomew.

“Come on in. Michael’s already here.”

“I’m not running a daycare here.” Malcolm whispered to himself. Malcolm appreciated Bart’s company more than he did Michael’s, but he still wasn’t thrilled to have an extra body standing around. In fairness, Michael wasn’t in the way at all since his was up in the roof.  Bart ducked as he entered the door. He was tall and built like a tree. He had to twist his body slightly to get through the doorway. His messy blond hair brushed up against the top post as he waddled inside. Bart always wore a simple oversized shirt and whatever pants he could find that fit him. He was by no means a giant, but he was just big enough to be scary if need be. This came in handy when Michael was stirring up trouble in pubs.

“Vordenport tomorrow, yeah?” he asked with a smile.

“Haven’t quite convinced him yet; he keeps going on about chores.” Bart looked up into the rafters and realized Michael was perched in his usual spot. Bart had met Michael a couple years before through James. Bart and James had known each other for much longer but never spent much time together until a few years back as well. Bart’s father was a sailor and wasn’t around very often. He would sail in and out of Vordenport on long trips but spent his time off living in Verron. Bart always wanted to work on boats like his father, despite his mother’s disapproval. Sailing was a fairly dangerous profession, even after a cure for scurvy had been discovered. Bart always found it amazing his father never died while at sea. His mother seemed convinced every time he left it would be the last time they saw them. Both Bart and his father were lucky. It seemed they both managed to get out of situations unscathed when they should have been maimed at least. Bart always remember a story his father told him about a trip when everyone on his ship came down with an unknown illness and almost half the crew died. His father was the only crew member not to get sick. The rest of the crew thought he had some sort of magic spell placed on him. He said the only spell he had was good luck. Regardless, the crew expelled him and he never went on another ship with any of them. Sailors were notoriously afraid of any kind of magic; they were very superstitious about it.

“Don’t do chores, James; it’s bad for your health.” Bart felt the need to inform him.

“I wish my parents saw it that way.”

“Hey, you know, I could actually feed the horses for you this weekend.” The boys became silent for a moment; they were all taken aback by Malcolm’s statement. Malcolm was not the sort of person to help some young kids out so they could go for a drinking weekend. Malcolm maintained a level of discipline from his days with the King’s Army. He was of the opinion that everyone under the age of eighteen should be doing chores every day of the week. He always said Michael was lazy for working less than six days at a time for his carpentry job. He would give James trouble too, any time he complained about chores. He’d give him trouble when he complained about helping him clean the lab as well, even though he was working for free. Michael jumped down from the rafters to look into Malcolm’s face just to see if he was pulling a trick on them. They all stared at him in disbelief, waiting for him to crack a smile. After a few minutes he finally raised his eyebrows. “I’m serious.” Michael snuck up behind James and whispered in his ears.

“Don’t question it. Let’s run before he changes his mind.” Malcolm rolled his eyes at Michael and went back to his work.

“Look, you’ve been helping me for basically free here for a couple years. I may be a strict, but I’m a man of fairness. You guys go have some fun this weekend. I can feed your parents horses.”

“I’m not sure my parents would be alright having a stranger…”

“I’ll take care of them early in the morning. You can tell them whoever you want is doing the chores. Don’t you have a cousin who helps out sometimes on the ranch?” It was true, James’ cousin Marcus did occasionally take care of the animals when they needed an extra hand.

“Thanks, but I don’t think they’ll be okay with me leaving for the weekend to go drinking with these two.”

“First, ouch,” Michael chimed in, “second, tell them you’ll be out with Malcolm getting supplies. They won’t mind that.” Malcolm shrugged. It seemed plausible enough.

“You’d really do that for me? I can take you around the ranch today and show you everything that needs to be done.”

“Not even a problem. I have to be up early this week working on some things for Alchem anyway. I can get it done first thing in the morning. Besides, I have plenty of experience with horses. Back in the day I was even a skilled rider.” Bart threw himself down into a chair. Listening to Malcolm talk about his work was enough to make him puke, but listening to him talk about his time in the King’s Army was an unending fascination.

“Did you ride war horses then?” he asked with widened eyes. Even Michael could hold still for long enough to listen to Malcolm talk about the early wars fought in the Mainland.

“No. Only the highest level knights rode the war horses. When I was trained with my swords it was for very close combat based. In the northeast it’s a different sort of training.”

As soon as Malcolm brought up his training in the northeast all alchemy immediately stopped and the three boys became enthralled in the conversation.  Malcolm was raised and trained in combat in the northeastern territory of Stray-hou. Stray-hou was a very mountainous region and was sparsely populated. During the so called Mainland War before the Dark Age began Stray-Hou was one of the very few territories to remain neutral. This was mostly a result of the difficulties of traveling through the mountains to reach the territory. It was at least a three week journey through the snowy and rocky terrain that could not easily be passed by horses except during the very late summer weeks. Stray-Hou had a history as long as any other territory on the continent but was so isolated the culture differed vastly from most other regions. They had access to the sea but no easy land access to any other country.

Malcolm was born and raised in this region. He had never met his father and his mother grew quite sick when he was young. She remained bedridden for most of his childhood and he supported her by enlisting at a very young age in the army reserve. This was not a bad deal for Malcolm as the Army Reserve had not participated in a war in many hundreds of years and would not likely participate while Malcolm was part of it. It still paid a decent amount and gave him skills that would be beneficial outside of an army position. The most useful skill he learned as a reserve soldier was the ability to hunt for food. Despite his young age Malcolm spent most of his time off from training in the woods scavenging for food for him and his mother to support them both beyond the small wage he earned for his training and time in the army. Hunting was more of a hobby for Malcolm, but when it came down to it, it was also his only means of keeping what was left of his family alive.

Training in a Stay-housian army was vastly different than any training experienced in the Mainland. Most significantly was the use of two smaller and more agile swords. The three boys were fascinated by the technique as it was not taught and even looked down upon typically in the King’s Army. Malcolm on the other hand was very sufficient from his many years in the reserve (most soldiers served four years while Malcolm served ten due to his early admission) that he could easily take down a trained soldier with any weapon ranging from a two-handed sword to a spear and shielded horseman.

At the age of eighteen every training member of the Army Reserve became eligible to apply to be a full-time member of the Stray-Hou army. At least two recommendations from professors or trainers were required for a full time application to enlist. Malcolm knew he could easily obtain four or five, but chose to not even apply. Instead he took a job as a traveler’s assistant escorting caravans from Stray-Hou to Menschliff. This was a much lower paying job that trainees from the Hou King’s Reserve would often take to build a sort of history of ability to serve as a functioning fighter. Malcolm was one of the very few to accept the position willingly, but he wanted to see the world outside of Stray-Hou. He was willing to submit to a lesser pay in order to have the freedom to explore the Mainland. The biggest drawback for Malcolm was the constant fear that upon his return he would find his mother dead and rotting in the bed she hadn’t left for years.

Despite his father’s well-known reputation in his town, Malcolm found that most of his father’s coworkers were not willing to take on any extra time to help support either him or his mother. Malcolm’s father was a member of the Hou King’s Reserve for many more years than most members stayed. He was also a very highly ranked officer among the elites who were garrisoned in the king’s keep.  The primary reason Malcolm was able to enter the reserve at such a young age was because of his father’s highly reputable name. Unfortunately, getting Malcolm into the reserve seemed to be about all his name was good for. As much as he would hear storied of greatness about his father from other soldiers who served with him there seemed to be no interest when Malcolm and his mother needed it. Malcolm remembered very specifically that at the tenth anniversary of his father’s death his mother organized a small reunion for the soldiers who served under him. Almost everyone came to his and his mother’s home and drank to their heart’s content, all while recounting stories of his father’s bravery. But while Malcolm retained the stories told of his father, he remembered most clearly that when it came time to clean up after it was he and his sick mother who were left with the mess. Malcolm resented the way the soldiers treated his mother, a feeling that stuck with him during his time in the reserve.

This may have been the primary reason Malcolm refused to officially join the army after his eighteenth birthday. It was also possibly the potential he knew existed in the Mainland for finding a cure for his mother’s disease. The Mainland was well known for advanced medicine among the Stray-Housians at the time Malcolm was getting ready to leave. No one was sure whether this was a result of advanced sciences or a deeper understanding of magic, very few citizens ever traveled there themselves, so most of what he had heard was conjecture. What was clear was that many diseases that afflicted the crops and animals of the Stray-Housians were of no problem to the majority of Mainland nations. Malcolm was unable to relinquish the idea that his mother may be saved from the painful death that all else saw as inevitable. He was very uneducated in both magic and medical science, but part of the reason Malcolm was so successful in the Hou King’s Reserve was due to his ability to learn foreign concepts quickly.

This ability carried over well when he accepted a small position in the King’s Army in the Mainland Country. As a seasoned warrior of Stray-Hou he was allowed a special dispensation to fight with dual agility swords, but was disrespected by native soldiers for his alternative training. When Malcolm had first joined the Hou King’s Reserve he was treated very poorly, even by the new recruits, due to his young age. He spent a lot of effort and time proving himself as a worthy soldier. Malcolm was not willing to submit to this treatment again as a soldier in the King’s Army. For this reason he worked extremely hard during the first months of training and became proficient in the methodology of the King’s Army. He began rising quickly through the ranks of the army before becoming a general sergeant and having a meeting with the king’s highest officer Malthesus. Malthesus was one of the very few who recognized Malcolm’s unique abilities. He had Malcolm placed in charge of a small army tasked with reclaiming certain territories with access resources necessary to the war efforts of the Mainland.

Almost five years later, when Malcolm returned for the last time to Stray-Hou before beginning his campaign to reclaim western mines he sat down with his mother, holding her hand in silence. She knew what he was about to say, but he couldn’t get the words out.

“I have to go now.” He whispered.