PROLOGUE

            Sometimes life’s changing happens so slowly that you barely realize it as it’s happening. Other times, like a stroke of lightning, it happens so fast you feel like you can barely adjust and keep up. And sometimes, the decisions in these moments set up collisions that are years in the making that even those making the decisions never see coming.

            Luke suddenly awoke and sat up as the storm continued to rage outside. Instinctively, he knew it wasn't the storm that had woken him up. A blacksmith by trade, he was used to letting his instinct guide him. He'd learned to trust his instincts as he worked the metal, almost feeling like the metal was telling him what it needed to get to where he was trying to take it. He'd learned to trust them, even when away from his forge - even if they made no sense at the time. So he let them guide him now, quickly rolling out of his hammock and putting on his robe. Then, grabbing his trusty hammer from where it leaned against the wall, he headed for the closed entrance of his yurt. Over six feet in height and heavily muscled from his twenty years of blacksmithing, he knew that most had no desire to fight him...and for good reasons. Tonight, he thought as he brushed his dark hair from his face, this intruder would learn first-hand.

            As he approached the entrance, he could tell that there was someone on the other side. Raising his hammer slowly, he took a deep breath and then threw open the flap…and quickly set his hammer down.

            There, wearing only a ring and a pair of shorts, his body covered in battle wounds, stood his twelve-year-old nephew. Even soaked in the rain, Luke could see the constant tears streaming down his face as his nephew continued to cry.

            “Josh!” he said in astonishment. Luke quickly removed his robe and covered up his nephew before picking him up in a huge bear hug. Josh wrapped his arms weakly around him and continued to cry as Luke turned and carried him inside.

            Once inside and the flap closed against the storm, Luke tried to set Josh down so he could dry him off and assess his wounds, but Josh just clung to him and continued to cry. Grateful for his nephew’s skinny frame, Luke continued to hold him as he went about lighting two candles and getting a fire started in the small stove in the center of his home.

            As a successful blacksmith, Luke has to travel constantly between the many villages, his horse pulling his cart with all his equipment. On one such occasion, he came across an adventuring party of Wolf Nomads who needed their weapons fixed. In return, they'd paid him with a circular two-man yurt. He’s happily lived in it since then, always setting up on the outskirts of whatever village he happened to be at.

            The inside of the yurt is surprisingly spacious and simple, the only furniture being two hammocks, two single-candle candelabra and the small stove. Near the stove is a bucket of water and some simple metal utensils he’d been working on before calling it a night. In between the two hammocks are a loose collection of books. Under the hammock Luke sleeps in are a couple of coin purses and a small silver lock box where he keeps his valuables.

            Once the fire was going, Luke sat down on the ground beside the stove and held Josh while he finished crying.

            “Josh?” he whispered when he realized he’d fallen silent. It quickly becomes apparent that Josh had fallen asleep. Gently laying him down, Luke took measure of Josh’s wounds and was grateful to see that none are too serious. He reached over and pulled a small rag out of the water bucket, wringed it out, and began cleaning the blood off Josh’s face and arms. As he cleaned off Josh’s hands, he came to the ring and paused, looking at it - a simple silver band with an exquisitely detailed depiction of an armored owl – the ancient symbol of their noble house. Subconsciously, he lifted his left hand and there, on the back of his hand and in exquisite detail, is a tattoo of the exact same owl.

         “What has happened to you,” he wondered out loud as he resumed cleaning. “And where is the rest of your family?” Knowing they lived on the other side of the kingdom, Luke had to assume that Josh had been magically sent here. But why? And what had happened to Josh’s mom (Luke’s sister) and the rest of her kids? Their father has been presumed dead for some time now but where were the rest of them? How could he possibly find out if Josh didn’t have the answers?

          A soft knock on the flap interrupted his thoughts. He placed the rag on the bucket and went to see who it was. He opened the flap and saw three ladies in hooded white robes and surrounded in a soft, magical light standing there.

***************

            As he continued to pace by the fire, the storm raging outside felt like an echo of the storm raging within him. Patience was rarely a virtue that goblinoids valued or trusted and Kel’this was no exception. He hated waiting. He hated not fighting. But most of all – he hated having to ask another to finish his revenge.

            Over 6-and-a-half feet tall and stronger than an ogre, Kel’this is huge by hobgoblin standards. The white hair that covers most of his body also marks him as unique, as most are covered by dark hair. Like any goblinoid adult, his body is covered in scars from wounds and their deities’ often bloody rituals. His two favored weapons, a spiked mace and a ball and chain, leaned on the wall nearby.

            Only the tribe’s witch doctor was brave enough to stay in the tent with him. Ugly by hobgoblin standards, Thundergust appears almost human – the result of surviving many powerful curses by enemy witch doctors. Like most hobgoblins, Thundergust stands just under six feet tall and is well-muscled by years of training and war. His head and face are more human-like (as opposed to the more ape-like head of most hobgoblins) and his body is void of any hair (the mark of young children in hobgoblin society). Yet, none so far had been able to match him in arcane skill, especially in elemental magic, the preferred magic of the goblinoid deities. This, along with his diplomatic skills, has made him an invaluable member of the tribe, despite his disfigurements.

          Wearing the black and green robes that mark him as the tribe’s witch doctor, Thundergust just stood by the throne and was there if Kel’this had need of him.

          Kel’this’s blood-red tent is large enough to hold ten hobgoblins but currently one quarter of that space was being taken up by a pile of dead elves and humans – slaves brought in for Kel’this to kill in an attempt to help him keep his temper in check as he waited. Better slaves than tribesmen. His impressive throne, built out of the bones of his vanquished major rivals, was there but ignored as his desire to be where the fighting was kept him pacing as his adrenaline continued to pump.

         It didn’t help that the vast majority of his clan got to be there while he stayed behind. Only the 10 strongest warriors of his tribe - the war council, his head shaman, Bekinbling, and the witch doctor Thundergust, had stayed behind. According to the convoy helping them, it was necessary for success. At the time it seemed a small price to pay for the human witches to fulfill his vengeance – to sit out when the fighting was done. But now, his tribe marched off to battle without them and they just sitting through a storm earning no honor or glory, the price seemed almost too much to bear. Almost…

        He was about to call for another slave when, as if in answer to his prayers, a war horn was heard outside. He grabbed his spiked mace and ran eagerly out into the storm, Thundergust a step behind him. Bekinbling came running over to them with a horn in hand, followed closely by the war council members, each with their weapons in hand.

        Just over 5’ in height, Bekinbling’s always been the smallest adult member of the tribe. Besides his stature, he is also marked by black stripes throughout the brown hair that coveres his body. What he lacks in stature he has made up for in devotion. He’s believed to be the most favored of all the goblinoid shaman, his spells and prayers often proving stronger than any other shaman’s. Many times since he’d become their head shaman had the gods’ favor helped the tribe.

      As Bekinbling approached, Kel’this could see he was wearing the skull helmet and bone tooth necklace that marked him as the tribe’s shaman and was carrying his bloodstained staff – which he only carried when he was expecting battle. As Bekinbling spoke, all eyes were on him. “I have had a vision, my chief! The Blood Fangs have heard that we are without our tribe and seek to finish us off before the tribe can return. They will attack from the west and be upon us any minute!”

      Kel’this was happy to see only an eager gleam in the eyes around him. A goblin tribe thought to take them out, eh? They would pay heavily for their misjudgment, he thought gleefully. “Get ready, boys! The gods have seen fit to not leave us out of the action after all! Tonight, glory comes to us!”

      As they thrust their weapons into the sky and cheered their luck, a great lightning strike revealed their enemies charging in from the west, as Bekinbling had predicted. They surged forward to prove their worthiness to their gods.

ERIDIAN SAGAS: FAMILY SHADOWS VOL - 1

Chapter 1 – Training Years

            Despite having been to the capital a handful of times over the last year with his Uncle, Josh didn’t think he could ever get used to just how big it is. It seemed to have EVERYTHING! He felt like he could live here for a decade and still barely know his way around it. Just as crazy to him was the fact that despite its size there were still crowds of people on every street. He never imagined that this many people could ever live in one place.

            So many people, dressed in so many ways. Some were obvious – the street guard of the city keeping the peace, the wizards in city colors going around using their magic to fix things, the various clergy in their robes trying to tend to the masses, and the occasional musician playing and singing on the nearest corner for tips. 

            Others his uncle could readily pick out but seemed no different than the others to him. Adventurers on their way to whatever they were doing, magic-users pursuing personal agendas, clergy not in their traditional robes doing non-worshipper related tasks, and craftsmen of every sort running around selling or applying their trade as opposed to people just running errands. He could only marvel at how easily his uncle could identify these people and even say most of the time what they were up to. 

            Suddenly, there they were, entering the castle. Josh was sure this was their first time at the castle but Uncle Luke seemed to know exactly where he was going, even nodding to a few of the guardsmen. Without having to ask for any directions, they were suddenly at the training grounds and walking up to sign him in.

            “Have you been here before,” Josh asked incredulously. He couldn’t see the nobles, let alone the king, needing his services with all the blacksmiths they had outside.

            “I did have to come here to arrange for you to continue your training, Steve,” he’d answered matter-of-factly.

            Steve, son of Ralph, the son of a family friend. This had been the name and background Josh had used since his arrival once the clerics had revealed that his family was being hunted. This is why they couldn’t even reveal that he was related to his uncle. As part of her last prayer, my mom (considered a legend among the priesthood) had asked for the goddess Mishra to save and keep safe her four kids – Mishra had agreed. Until it was decided it was safe, they had been separated and placed in the care of selected guardians that would let them go unnoticed. And under no circumstances were they to seek each other out until given word that they were safe again by the goddess or her clergy…with no promises of how long that may be.

            It is common knowledge throughout Eridia that anyone descended from a noble line is born with a birthmark of that line’s symbol on their body. The smaller the birthmark, the further their relation from the primary descendants. For direct descendants and those closest to it, it appears more like a tattoo than a birthmark. Being descendants from a noble family, Mishra had hidden the children’s birthmarks until the first time they willingly revealed their true identity to someone. Josh knew he’d have to be careful, for his is on the back of his left shoulder and is quite easily spotted. It’d be impossible to hide for as often as he was shirtless.

            The only other thing that marked him as of noble blood was his ring, which was now in his uncle’s lockbox beside his uncle’s. It was difficult for Josh to leave it behind as it was the last gift his father had given him before he’d vanished, but he understood the necessity.

            The clergy who had visited Josh and his uncle had encouraged them to focus on Josh living and growing rather than on simply hiding. At first, Josh had spent a few months trying to learn blacksmithing from his uncle, but it never felt as right as when he’d been learning to be a soldier from his dad. It had taken some convincing, but he’d finally talked his uncle into letting him go to the capital and finish his training. Due to his previous training, his uncle was able to get him in with the other boys his own age who’d started training last year.

            After signing him in, Uncle Luke passed a small pouch of silver to the soldier – payment for the training. After ensuring the correct amount was in the pouch and looking over the paperwork, the soldier said, “All is in order. Steve, you may go onto the grounds and introduce yourself to the other trainees. The instructor’s name is Vincent and he’ll be here in about an hour.”

             He then looked at Uncle Luke, who was leaning on the table like he needed it for support. “You have agreed to leave him here for the next 8 months. You may not visit during this time nor will he be allowed to leave the grounds without Vincent’s permission. No personal items are allowed beyond one non-magical weapon and the clothes he arrives in – all other needs and provisions will be seen to by the royal family and Vincent. Do you understand fully?”

            “I do”, he replied without standing or looking up.

            “Good,” the soldier said. “Then say your farewells and leave immediately. You will receive a scroll advising you of when you can come and pick him up for break.”

            His uncle was on the verge of tears as he knelt down and gave Josh a massive hug. “Stay safe,” he whispered in his ear.

            “I promise,” Josh whispered back.

            After a moment longer, the guard said, “That’s enough, mister. Let him go and leave.” When my uncle didn’t immediately comply, the guard made the mistake of coming around the table. “I said,” he began, but then my uncle stood up and the guard froze as he suddenly found himself looking up at my very large, very angry uncle. He pulled his sword but before anyone could react my uncle reached over and took it from him before throwing it on the ground.

            “I’m leaving,” he said flatly, with one final glare at the soldier. With that, he winked at Josh and left the grounds. Seeing two boys playfully going at it, one with a hammer and one with an axe, he swiftly made his way over to them before the guard could recover and possibly take his embarrassment out on him. Since he was never persued he assumed his plan had worked.

            As he approached, he began to wonder if the two boys were related. Both had short black hair and both had broad shoulders for their age, almost like they were related to dwarves. The one with the hammer has more of an hour-glass figure to him and moved notably more gracefully than his opponent. The other is built more slenderly except for his broad shoulders and seemed to move more thoughtfully. They paused their sparring as they saw him approaching.

             Josh gave them a big wave as he walked up to them. “Hey, guys! I’m,” he almost said Josh but caught himself, “uh, Steve. Nice to meet ya!”

            “Are you sure your name is Steve?” the closest one asked playfully, leaning on the hammer.

            Josh just stood there, obviously embarrassed but not knowing what to say.

            “No worries,” he said good-naturedly as the two stepped closer to Josh. “We were all nervous our first day. I’m Jack,” he said as he reached out his hand. “And this is Zack.”

            Josh shook both their hands, happy to have already made some friends.

           The sound of someone hitting the ground got all of their attention. They saw a slightly smaller boy with sandy colored hair and a spear picking himself up off the ground. It was obvious that he’d just tripped over his own spear.

          “And that,” Jack said still smiling, “is our buddy, Barry. Let’s introduce you to him!”

***************

           “You ok, Barry?” Ben asked for the third time since the match had ended. As before, Barry just nodded as he slowly walked into the showers.

            Everyone had been surprised when Vincent had paired the tallest kid against the shortest kid in their class for the “no mercy” match. They’d all learned that when Vincent meant said no mercy, he meant no mercy. Both combatants were expected to do their best and try their hardest until the match was called - both combatants paid the price otherwise. Once the match was finished, Vincent dismissed them for the day.

           As they had done every day after training, everyone was now in the communal bath recovering from yet another brutal day. People were either naked in the showers soaking their muscles or were out among the benches tending to wounds. All of them were covered in minor wounds and bruises in various stages of healing.

            Josh had noticed in the shower that Ben had kept looking at Barry. Almost perfect imprints of his hands and the sides of his feet could be clearly seen in various places over Barry’s body, most already forming bruises. While Ben’s friends had cheered and congratulated him on another victory in the sparring ring, he obviously felt bad every time he looked at what he’d done to Barry.

            The rage coming off of Jack and Zach in the shower was such that Josh half expected to see steam rising from them. Normally the bath was noisy, filled with random conversations, random boasting and well-natured harassing. Tonight, only the sounds of the running water and the movements of the class could be heard.

            While Barry couldn’t keep the tears from coming, he quickly brushed aside anyone who checked on him. Josh and Jack had shared a knowing look and patiently waited until Barry was done before following him out. Once he’d gotten his loincloth on, Jack wrapped him up in a big yet gentle hug. As Barry returned the hug, he allowed his tears to fall freely. Zach stood beside them glaring, daring anyone to say something. Meanwhile, Josh had gotten the healing cream – what they’d all taken to calling their best friend.

          When Josh arrived with the well-loved clear jar of pink-colored paste, Jack pulled Barry out to arm’s length. “Which one hurts the most?”

         Without answering, Barry lay face-down on the bench and it was clear to see which one was the worst. It was almost twice as black as all the others. Jack had motioned for the jar, but Josh knelt beside Barry and began applying the paste gently. The four of them had already bonded closely and Josh remembered when Barry had watched after him after he’d been accidentally slashed with a dagger. Josh meant to return the favor now.

         It didn’t take long before the four of them were the only ones left. The others had all changed into their sweats (the only clothes they were allowed to wear outside of training) and had headed to dinner. Barry, now in better control of himself, had flipped over and his head was in Zach’s lap. Zach had a small amount of the paste and was applying it to a foot-shaped bruise on Barry’s face. Meanwhile, Josh and Jack were finishing up passing the jar between them as they applied some to every bruise on Barry’s body.

        “Do you think this is how he’ll try this year,” Barry suddenly asked.

       “We’d already come to that conclusion,” Jack said, exchanging a look between him and Zach. Both were clearly upset about this.

       “What are you guys talking about,” Josh asked as he closed the lid on the jar, feeling like he’d walked into the middle of an unknown conversation.

        Barry, his wounds now tended to, sat up. As they talked, the four finished getting dressed.

       “You weren’t there last year, Steve,” Zach began as he pulled on his blue sweatpants, “and you were lucky about that. Vincent made it clear that people of certain heights had no business in combat.”

       “All of us got a good glare as he lectured us about it,” Jack added as he pulled on his black shirt. “He made no secret who he was talking to.”

      “Last year was much like this year has been so far,” Barry said. “Lots of exercises and teaching us non-weapon combat.” Jack helped to hold him up while he pulled on his green sweatpants. “And he loved pitting the larger kids against the smaller kids, as if to prove his point.”

      Fully dressed now, the four left the bath house and headed to the dining hall to join the others at dinner. Jack continued as they walked.

     “In fact, Zach and I spent the whole off-season training together because of it.”

     “We figured,” Zach jumped in, “even if we didn’t grow taller, we’d at least get stronger.”

      It was then that Josh noticed Vincent, still dressed in only his plain leather shorts, was talking to a half-orc. While neither was nearly as tall as Josh’s uncle, the half-orc stood almost half a head taller than Vincent and was wearing chainmail.

    “I told you,” the half-orc laughed as Vincent handed over a small bag. 

    “There’s a long time to go before the year’s over,” Vincent replied, seemingly unconcerned.

    “Who’s that talking with Master Vincent?” Josh asked.

    “We really do need to keep reminding ourselves this is your first year here,” Jack playfully harassed.

    “That’s Captain Hookhoof, head of the city guard,” Barry explained. “I wonder what they bet on.”

    “Whatever it was, after today, I’m just happy Vincent lost,” Zach said.