Fractures Read online

  “He’s your brother?” said the blonde girl, expression dubious. Her friends’ faces mirrored hers.

  Dawyn met their questioning eyes evenly. “That’s right.”

  The other children’s brows drew down as they looked between them, scrutinizing their features. Thaleon shrank when their eyes lingered on his black hair and golden-brown eyes. He stood more than a head shorter than Dawyn, making their glaringly dissimilar appearances even more obvious.

  “You don’t look like brothers,” the girl announced, unconvinced.

  The boy added, “Yeah, his hair is so dark and his eyes are—”

  “Well, we are,” Dawyn said curtly.

  He slung an arm about Thaleon’s shoulder and pulled him away before the group could say anything more. The children stared after them, confusion plain on their faces.

  Thaleon smiled. Who said you had to share blood to be brothers? Dawyn was the best older brother anyone could wish for.

  2

  “Stop it!”

  His shout only encouraged Dawyn who grinned and threw another bucketful of water from the troughs for the horses.

  “Stop!”

  Thaleon sputtered when the water hit him, this time directly in the face. He gagged at the disgusting taste it left on his tongue and retaliated by throwing a handful of mud at the older boy. It hit Dawyn squarely in the chest with a soft plop.

  “Hey!” Dawyn said with mock indignation then laughed when Thaleon threw another handful of mud.

  They regained their senses only after both of them stood filthy from head to toe. Seeing no reason to wash up only to be dirtied again, they continued their daily chores around the farmhouse, Dawyn doing most of the labor while Thaleon saw to the smaller tasks he could help with—the animals had to be fed, their pens cleaned and the crops watered. The family’s sheepdogs trailed after them as they worked, resembling three fluffy clouds graced with pointy ears.

  A few hours later, they stepped inside to wash up and to eat. They would have been scolded for tracking mud into the house had Merek or Aleth seen them but today was market day and Thaleon’s parents had left early morning. People of Alfhum loved Aleth’s beautiful woolen goods even if they didn’t care for the Ae’lisian hands weaving them.

  Dawyn began reheating the stew while Thaleon sat at the dining table with a book, legs swinging back and forth as he flipped through the pages.

  One of the three books the family owned, its pages curled at the corners heavily, bearing evidence of the countless times Dawyn and Thaleon had poured over the text.

  Thaleon could recite the whole thing almost word for word, having read the text nearly a hundred times. Books were rare luxuries for commonborne families—most could not read or write and did not see the importance of literacy.

  But Aleth placed heavy emphasis on the skill and taught both Thaleon and Dawyn from a young age to read and write. She taught them a bit of Ae’lisian too, but the language proved difficult and hard to retain with little opportunities to use it in their small Itothian village.

  She had acquired the books over the years on rare occasions a peddler rolled into Alfhum carrying a text or two. The family didn’t have a surplus of coins to spare so she would offer one of her woolen goods in exchange.

  This particular text was Thaleon’s favorite.

  It told the story of Darius, the dark mage leader of the rebel mages. Stories like these became massively popular after the end of Darius’ Rebellion and remained so even now—fifteen years after the war. Due to the varying details, it was hard to tell which ones were based on true events and which were wild imaginations of the storyteller.

  Not that anyone particularly cared if an event or two had been embellished. People loved to hear stories of the infamous nineteen-year-old dark mage who destroyed half the Itothian noble houses and nearly brought the Crown to its knees.

  “Careful, it’s hot,” Dawyn said as he set two steaming bowls of stew upon the table. He took a seat and cut the dark bread sitting in the center of the small table, handing over a slice to Thaleon before taking a piece for himself.

  He peered at the book Thaleon had pushed aside in favor of the hot stew. “The one about Darius again?”

  “Mhm,” Thaleon hummed, mouth full of the mildly sweet bread dipped in broth.

  Dawyn’s tone turned teasing. “You sure you won’t demand to hide in my bed again tonight? I like having my bed to myself.” Possessing more patience than Thaleon, he stirred his bowl with a spoon to let it cool off.

  When they were younger, similar stories would scare Thaleon into lying awake at night imagining a dark mage coming to take him with his evil spells. Parents loved to scare their children with stories of dark mages kidnapping unruly children from their homes and the children exchanged the tales amongst themselves in hushed whispers.

  Although unwelcome among his peers, Thaleon heard enough of the whispered tales in passing to leave him unable to sleep at night, imagination running wild as he recalled the stories of human sacrifice, demonic rituals and malevolent spells.

  When he repeated what he’d overheard to his mother, she reassured him, unimpressed, that dark mages did not go around kidnapping children.

  But the stories still scared him and he would frequently cross the small room he shared with Dawyn and sneak under his brother’s covers, demanding Dawyn keep him safe from the terrifying dark mages.

  “I won’t. I’m not little anymore,” he said with a defiant lift of his chin.

  Dawyn raised an eyebrow. “You are only eleven.”

  “And you are only fourteen. If dark mages come, I’ll run to father while they take you.” Thaleon stuck out his tongue. Dawyn laughed.

  Dawyn left to tend to the sheep while Thaleon remained inside. When he returned a couple of hours later, it was time to begin preparing dinner.

  He wasn’t allowed to handle a knife so Thaleon washed the potatoes and carrots while Dawyn chopped the herbs and prepped the meat.

  Loud barking from outside caused Thaleon’s hands to still. The dogs knew better than to bark at shadows and a sense of unease rose as the barking grew louder. He leaned in close to Dawyn and nervously peered up at the older boy to see him staring out the window with a small frown.

  A strange scent hung in the air. The delicate sweetness of fresh flowers his mother liked to place in the home had been replaced with a caustic smell of…smoke.

  It rose furiously in the distance, tarnishing the clear sky with heavy streaks of gray like spilled paint. Thaleon filled with panic as he realized the smoke came from Alfhum.

  Dawyn burst into motion, pulling on the boots discarded by the hearth and throwing on a light jacket. Alfhum needed all the hands it could get with fire so large. Thaleon scrambled to retrieve his own boots.

  “I’m going too!” He clutched at Dawyn’s sleeve as he rushed forward and fell into step with his brother.

  Dawyn shook his head. “No, it’s dangerous. You should stay here.”

  He tried to pry his arm away but Thaleon refused to let go, face determined. Dawyn frowned, then his face broke into a smile at the sight of Thaleon pouting up at him with fingers wound tightly in his sleeve.

  “You are better with the animals. Stay here and keep them company so they don’t get scared.” The logic mollified Thaleon and he nodded. His fingers reluctantly released Dawyn’s sleeve.

  “Okay,” said Thaleon, still very much displeased at being left behind. Dawyn gave him an affectionate pat and took off, becoming a small figure on the road before disappearing completely around a bend.

  Thaleon secured the sheep in the barn with the help of the dogs so the animals would not panic and run away in fright. The smoke grew thick, making the livestock and even the dogs nervous. It left an awful taste on his tongue as tiny flecks of ash clung to his hair and clothing, carried over by the wind although the home sat miles away from Alfhum.

  He checked on the other animals before heading back inside with the dogs and plopped down by a window to watch the smoke rise in the distance. He hoped Dawyn and his parents would return home soon.

  Hours passed with no sign of Dawyn or his parents on the road. Ash continued to gather against the windows of the home, resembling gray snow. It cast a strange sight against the lush green of the fields speckled by bright flowers.

  Thaleon sat by the window with the dogs lounging by his feet, eyes fixated on the dirt road. The fading glow of the setting sun colored everything in brilliant shades of orange and red in a grand finale as if the burning star was a skilled bard readying to retire for the night.

  The youngest of the sheepdogs let out a whine and rose from the floor, placing his white head on Thaleon’s lap. He stroked the dog absentmindedly, eyes continuing to search for his parents and Dawyn.

  The sun dipped completely behind a hill and the finale neared its end with no sign of his family. It would be dark soon. Impatience and anxiety continued to build until they became a force impossible to ignore.

  The dogs startled when he shot to his feet. He thought briefly about taking them with him but decided against it knowing they would get in the way once he reached Alfhum. They trailed after him as he stepped outside and continued to follow even when he started down the road, whining.

  “I’ll be back soon. Stay here,” said Thaleon.

  The dogs obeyed the well-learned command while whining in alarm.

  Satisfied, Thaleon gave them a small wave and set out towards the burning town.

  Smoke burned Thaleon’s eyes and lungs, drawing out hot tears and coughs as he made his way through town. Scorching air tore relentlessly at his lungs and the haze of gray made it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. The home to the left groaned and gave out as its foundation succumbed under the insatiable flames. br />
  But it wasn’t the fire that scared him.

  Not one person could be seen fighting the flames as if Alfhum had been abandoned by the very people whose homes and businesses were being reduced to ashes. The streets stood eerily quiet save for the crackling of the flames, leaving him uneasy as he continued his way into town.

  As he neared the town square, Thaleon froze at the sound of struggle and screams. A familiar female voice pleaded for mercy and a guttural male voice answered in a language he did not recognize. More screams. A boy shouted in Itothian, his voice too, familiar.

  Instinct begged him to run the other way and it took every bit of courage to push forward and peek around the corner. A sharp gasp escaped him before he could stop himself and he clung desperately to the wall as his trembling legs nearly gave out from under him.

  Dawyn thrashed in the hands of a man nearly seven feet tall, his hair mussed and clothes covered in soot and dirt. Bruises marred the exposed skin of his body and his arm looked as if it would snap under the punishing grip of his captor.

  The man wore armor unlike those Thaleon had seen on Itothian soldiers. It left parts of the body bare in a combination of animal hide and metal, giving it a strangely unfinished feel. Unruly golden hair escaped the strange helmet and fell just shy of the man’s broad shoulders.

  “Let me go!” Dawyn beat at the hands holding him captive but his eyes weren’t looking at the man.

  Thaleon followed his brother’s gaze to the two figures sprawled on the ground, the red glow of the flames dancing across their unnatural stillness.

  He screamed.

  His mother lay on the ground covered in dirt and blood. Someone had dragged her by her hair, ripping out chunks and matting it terribly. Heavy tears in her yellow dress exposed numerous wounds bleeding profusely. A vein had burst in her right eye, turning the whites a horrifying crimson. More red leaked from her nose and mouth, creating frightening streaks against the pale skin.

  His father lay a few feet away, lying in a pool of blood irreversibly staining the pale gray of the cobblestones. Several deep sword wounds gaped along his body and one particularly vicious blow had been dealt to his side, exposing rows of white ribs under the bloody fabric and parted flesh. Rivulets of blood trickled from his nose and mouth and traveled down the side of his face.

  Thaleon sprinted forward, unable to see anything but the two corpses burning into his vision. He tripped over debris and hit the ground with a jarring impact but the pain hardly registered as he scrambled to his feet and covered the last bit of distance.

  “Mom! Dad!”

  He fell to his knees beside the two still bodies, breathless, and brushed back the fine black locks from his mother’s face with clumsy fingers. When she did not stir, he turned to his father, shaking him by the shoulders as if trying to rouse him from sleep.

  “Thaleon, run!”

  He startled at Dawyn’s cry and whirled to see another raider coming upon him.

  Shock froze him to the spot.

  When the man grabbed him, Thaleon fell into a fit of hysterical screams and struggles, refusing to still even when the raider shouted foreign words into his face, the threat behind them evident.

  Stars danced before his eyes and pain bloomed across his cheek.

  He slumped when the raider backhanded him again, vision going black at the edges. He dimly recognized the shouts in the background as Dawyn’s as the man forced him to the ground and bound his hands with coarse ropes.

  He lifted his head with effort to see Dawyn yelling and fighting against his captor. With a growl, the raider slammed a fist into Dawyn’s face with a gloved hand, snapping his neck sharply to the side and causing the yells to come to an abrupt halt.

  Dawyn would have crumpled to the ground had it not been for the iron grip of his captor—he hung limp, breath coming in small gasps and eyes unfocused. Blood welled from the cut across his cheek where the skin had split.

  The raider’s expression turned frightening at the sight of the bleeding wound.

  “Stop struggling or I will cut you,” said the man in broken Itothian, words coming slow and laced with a thick accent. His free hand reached down to wrap about the hilt of a long dagger at his waist. The blade sang softly as it left the sheath, its sound sinister. Dawyn stilled.

  “Understand?” said the man, voice low. The blade drew closer, stopping inches away from the wide, terrified brown eyes.

  Dawyn swallowed hard and nodded. The man threw him to the ground.

  Although he must have been in pain, Dawyn immediately proceeded to crawl over to Thaleon. He did not get far—the raider yanked him back by a fistful of hair and forced Dawyn violently to the ground to bind his hands with more force than necessary.

  Thaleon, still dazed, stumbled as large hands pulled him to his feet and dragged him over to Dawyn. He fell heavily when the man holding him shoved him to the ground.

  Dawyn inched over with hands bound before him, face covered in blood and dirt. “Are you okay?”

  Thaleon couldn’t answer. Heavy sobs took him as he stared at the lifeless bodies of his parents and the dark pools of blood. There was so much blood.

  More raiders appeared—the weapons in their hands glistened red as if they had been used recently. The golden-haired man barked out a word as they approached and they responded in the same language.

  Their eyes turned to Thaleon wailing on the ground and a man with dark curls and gray eyes hauled him to his feet to run a curious gaze over him. Thaleon cowered in his grasp, trying to pull away.

  The man held him easily as he said something to his companions to make their lips pull into ugly smiles. The sight sent Thaleon into another fit of hysteria.

  “Leave him alone!” Dawyn shouted and was rewarded with a kick to the side. He wouldn’t stop trying to get up so they kicked him again, and the tip of a booted foot connected with the side of his head, knocking him out cold.

  Still reeling from the murder of his parents, Thaleon fell into full-blown panic at the sight of Dawyn slumping to the ground. The man holding him cursed as he screamed and kicked, small fists beating down on the broad armored body and refusing to stop even after being backhanded twice.

  Something stirred within him like a beast waking from its slumber, raising its dark head from the deepest depths of his consciousness. Black shadows began lifting off into the air, their movements frenzied.

  Pain bloomed when the irritated raider struck him in the back of the head. Everything went black.

  3

  Alfhum lay only a few miles from the coast.

  Both Thaleon and Dawyn had visited the ocean often in the summers to swim in the brilliant blue waves under the warm golden sun. Tonight, the waves stirred dark and ominous, lit only by a silver waning moon.

  A pair of giant ships bobbed in the water, their blood-red sails billowing in the cool wind. Thaleon stared at them with dread, mouth dry, as he stood in line with other captured children waiting to board the small boats transporting the captives to the vessels.

  Behind him, he heard Dawyn take small, uneven breaths.

  He turned to see his brother looking pale, slightly bent forward, with a curtain of hair over his eyes. Beneath the brown waves, his face contorted in pain and a sheen of sweat glistened upon his brow.

  “Dawyn.” Thaleon clasped at Dawyn’s arm with bound hands to find his brother trembling.

  Dawyn straightened with obvious effort and smiled. “I’m okay, Thal.” His voice came strained. The smile frayed at the edges and fell.

  They soon reached the front of the line and Thaleon found himself ushered forward by a dark-haired man towards the small boats. He stopped in his tracks when he realized Dawyn wasn’t behind him. A glance back revealed his brother standing several feet back, held back by another raider.

  The waiting boat could only take so many and panic filled Thaleon as he realized they would be separated. He slipped out of the man’s hold and ran back to grasp at Dawyn with frantic hands—a string of foreign curses followed behind him.

  “Move!” said the man manning the line, irritation plain on his face.