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Description
Chapter 1 : In a circle of trees

“Beneath these trees, this is where god lives. He is all that exists around us.  In all that was or ever will be.” The man who spoke was old. His hair past the grays of age and into a translucent white that made him seem ancient.  “Each flower, rock, tree and even the air that you are breathing contains a divine spark,” he continued allowing the children of no more than fourteen summers in age around him their laughter and comments on his senility.  Pausing when he felt they had had enough time to poke fun he spoke again in a louder tone. “Now, many of you think this the ramblings of an old man far beyond his use. But, you should think again.  For with the right application of one’s own spirit and a little concentration we can harness this great force.  Which as you may imagine makes all things possible.”

Then holding out his hand the old man smiled as his eyes drifted closed and through what seemed to be nothing more than meditative breathing brought a small blue flame to life hovering a mere inch above his hand. “As you can see,” he continued opening his eyes, “this flame is but a small example of the art to which I speak.”

Immediately a hushed whisper fell over the circle of children around him, and through the quiet the expected questions could be heard. “How did he do that?” “Where did it come from?” And of course the dreaded, “that isn’t possible.” These were heard from all, all that is say of one.  He was a pale boy without any hint of color to him, each hair white as a ghost be it on his brow or the long locks of his hair, only his eyes showed any hint of color and they were of the deepest fiery red.  He sat softly against a tree his eyes fixed on the old man with a curious content which passed to the hand he slowly outstretched as if trying to figure out how the magic was worked.

This was Lucien, the griffon rider’s son, albino since birth and thought as frail as the snow his color mimicked.  The old man knew him as well as his father well.  The father for being a hero and warrior, both of the highest virtues.  And, the son for being what the father considered a bane, and Karmatic curse.  A curse gifted to him by the gods in retribution for the lives he had taken in battle.

None of this was unknown.  In fact it was announced at Lucien’s birth that he was a curse.  His father, upon seeing the boy, had cast out his wife with babe in arms screaming that no monster could ever be a son of his.  No ghostly beast would be brought forth into this world and raised by his hands.  And, so the village had Believed, shunned and above all ostracized Lucien for merely being born.  His Father laid down his sword. His mother bereft of heartbreak fell sick and died before he was even two summers old.  And the village had somewhat raised Lucien.  Caring for the boy by leaving table scraps at the door step as one would for a stray animal.  Each member of the town fearing the wrath of the father should they aide the son.

Despite all of this, and as if by some miracle of the gods alone, Lucien grew strong both in mind as well as in body.  He learned to ignore the other children’s stabbing remarks, or at least to hide the pain when they called him a fiend and demon.  Then each night as the sun faded from the sky he would wonder the streets of the town eating his fill and offering letters of thanks to those he visited.

Then something changed. An old man came to the village when Lucien had just began his twelfth summer in the hell he called life.  The other families called him a merlin, or great teacher, one who had seen more than any of them could ever hope to.  Had the old man not decided it was better to settle in the woods Lucien called home, the boy may have never met him.  But, that was not as fate would have it, and for the past two years Lucien had watched the merlin sleep among his trees and spend his days in solitude.

Then it happened on a night in the fall as the leaves began to turn. A few of the older children in an act of nothing short of boyish courage decided they would rid their village of this “fiendish ghost that haunted their night time streets.”

The forest was alive with torch light that night as the boys went crashing through the trees in search of their query. Each foot fall echoing through the forest with the snapping of twigs until they finally found him. Lucien was asleep calmly by the side of a stream beneath the bows of an old willow. He slept soundly in the leaves as the boys crept up to him barely stirring until the first blow of a club smashed into his ribs. The boys prodded at him with eyes full of hate as they pounded away at Lucien’s pale flesh with their sticks and fists. “Look at the little beast,” one urged on, his voice filled with spite.

“Let’s see how much the little fiend can take,” another said with a fiendish smile as his club fell hard into Lucien’s groin with a whimper.

“Not much more,” came another voice but then all fell silent. The last blow falling across Luciens brow with a loud crack.

When he woke the next morning things were a bit different, the tree was gone and Lucien found himself covered in ash. Looking around in complete bewilderment the boy slowly staggered to his feet before his eyes fell to the only other occupant of the stream side. There sitting on a rather large rock was the merlin simply watching the boy contently as Lucien washed his face in the stream.

“Good morning lad,” the merlin said in a cheerful tone. “’Twas a strange night last eve wouldn’t you say? All those fires and such. Then that awful screaming. It was as if the gates of the void opened up.”

Raising a brow Lucien turned his head to meet the old man’s speech. “W-what d-do you mean sire?” Lucien asked unsure of himself or why anyone would even bother speaking to him. “Wasn’t i-it all a d-dream? The boys, their sticks, their fists. That was all real? W-w-why are they doing this to me? What did I ever do to them?”

The merlin sighed realizing the boy knew very little of what happened, before he spoke again choosing his words carefully. “My dear boy, please calm yourself and I will gladly explain.” Motioning to a place beside him the merlin began to speak again once the boy had sat down. “First of all we need to get one thing straight. You did nothing that was unprovoked or for anything more than your survival. Now as to the rest yes it was all real. And, why they did it is most simple. You are different in more ways than even I can guess. Still human, still a good person, and still just a boy. Just special in ways you will be able to know better in time.”

“What do you mean special?” the boy seemed confused as he spoke.

“Oh, that’s nothing to be concerned with,” the old man replied quickly. “We have other matters to attend to anyway.” Looking Lucien over, the old man sighed as he watched the boy cringe and shrink away when he touched his ribs. “Like, for starters, getting you taken care of. After all that was quite the beating you took back there.”

After that night no one in town saw Lucien stalking the streets at night. He had been kept in the company of the merlin. The food they left was there in the morning. And no one knew what happened to the boy. For that matter when the children gathered in the old man’s grove Lucien had kept himself hidden for a while only taking his seat after the others had been captivated by the old man.

And there as he looked at his hand, such a pale, frail thing, the merlin spoke. “Ah, Lucien my boy, how nice of you to join us. I was hoping you would decide to grace us with your presence.”

At these words every one of the youths sitting around the old man turned with a look of shock to the pale boy sitting with his back against a tree. Each little face covered with a horror from what they had heard in rumor and legend via their parents. “Yes, father I thought it about time. Besides I wish to learn as well and you have much to teach,” Lucien replied looking at the old man as if no one else were there.

As they heard the albino’s words the whispers started again, this time angered. Then it happened, one of the boys stood, a year younger than Lucien and for a lack of a better description, round. His limbs were overflowing with layers of fat and face looking so much like that of a pig that one half expected him to squeal, snort, and grunt instead of speak. This same boy started slowly toward Lucien, his fine clothing of velvet and silk straining at the seams with each movement. “What did you call the merlin? Was it father?” The boy spat as he moved, waddling toward Lucien. “How dare you call such a man father. You foul creature. Nothing more than the product of a tainted bitch, a dog with no more use than to catch a man’s seed.” By this time he had reached Lucien his hand raised in a fist and eyes boiling over with anger. “I’ll show you how we deal with your kind, demon.” But, though he tried, the boy’s hand would not fall to strike Lucien, who began to stand slowly.

“Call me what you will, friend,” Lucien began slowly, “strike me if you must, but remember this. I have done nothing to you. I am certain that your parents as well as the other’s here each took pity on me and left scraps for the boy who’s father threw him away. And I will say this from the look of you, your belly has always been most full and will see much more gluttony before it is through.” Then turning he patted the boy on the shoulder and took a seat closer to his adopted father. “Thank you for stopping him father, I have no wish to fight those such as him.”

“You are quite welcome Lucien,” the old man said smiling softly as he turned away from the boy finally allowing the punch to follow through, sending the little pig crashing into the tree. “Now,” the merlin began, his voice more definitive and strong, “Shall we begin again or would someone else like to slander the boy I adopted?”

The response was unanimous as Lucien took his seat, “May we please begin sire?” Nodding the old man watched as the portly boy slunk off into the woods. His guess being that the lad was headed home, his noble nose too far up and pride too deep in the dirt to continue.

“Very well then,” the merlin said with a smile, “Let us begin with an introduction. I believe Lucien started us off on the right foot. Let’s have your names and why it is that you are here.” Smiling the old man spoke with a little laughter, “And do tell the truth, I will know if you don’t.”

Each child then turned to Lucien who was nodding before they could even ask if it was true. As if he had already been expecting their reaction. “Hey, if a man can produce flames in his hands, tells you he’ll know when you lie, he is probably telling the truth.” Lucien said with a bit of sarcasm in his voice while he sat there.

“Good,” the merlin said calmly, “Then let us begin with you miss.” As he pointed, his finger landed on a timid looking girl with bright red hair and deep green eyes.

Shrinking back even more the girl spoke in a voice that was no more than a whisper, “M-me sire?”

“Yes you my dear,” he said with a smile.

“Well sire,” she spoke stuttering as she looked down playing with the dirt between her toes. “I suppose I’m here because my father told me to be. You see I’ve come to the age where I should be married but none will have me promised to them. Father says a girl is no good if you can’t have her married off so he sent me to you. Said maybe the old coot in the woods ‘ll have me.” By the time the girl finished she was in tears. Her green eyes bloodshot with grief and pain.

“I see,” he said calmly, “Then gather your things from home and be back by nightfall my dear. But, before you go do be so kind as to tell me your name.”

“Oh, yes. Sorry sire. I am Sylvia O’reen.”

“Very well Sylvia, off with you then.”

At his words Sylvia stood and turned toward the town her eyes teared and her sobs still causing her to convulse. “Lucien,” the old man said quietly, “Go with her won’t you?”

Looking up Lucien seemed surprised, “Of course father.”

“We can’t have a lady bringing her worldly possessions here alone. I am sure it is far too much to carry all that way.”

“As you wish father,” Lucien said with a nod and stood moving with Sylvia toward the edge of the grove. The last thing they heard was the old man speaking again in soft tones to the others and selecting the next child for introduction.

Description
Chapter 1 : In a circle of trees

“Beneath these trees, this is where god lives. He is all that exists around us.  In all that was or ever will be.” The man who spoke was old. His hair past the grays of age and into a translucent white that made him seem ancient.  “Each flower, rock, tree and even the air that you are breathing contains a divine spark,” he continued allowing the children of no more than fourteen summers in age around him their laughter and comments on his senility.  Pausing when he felt they had had enough time to poke fun he spoke again in a louder tone. “Now, many of you think this the ramblings of an old man far beyond his use. But, you should think again.  For with the right application of one’s own spirit and a little concentration we can harness this great force.  Which as you may imagine makes all things possible.”

Then holding out his hand the old man smiled as his eyes drifted closed and through what seemed to be nothing more than meditative breathing brought a small blue flame to life hovering a mere inch above his hand. “As you can see,” he continued opening his eyes, “this flame is but a small example of the art to which I speak.”

Immediately a hushed whisper fell over the circle of children around him, and through the quiet the expected questions could be heard. “How did he do that?” “Where did it come from?” And of course the dreaded, “that isn’t possible.” These were heard from all, all that is say of one.  He was a pale boy without any hint of color to him, each hair white as a ghost be it on his brow or the long locks of his hair, only his eyes showed any hint of color and they were of the deepest fiery red.  He sat softly against a tree his eyes fixed on the old man with a curious content which passed to the hand he slowly outstretched as if trying to figure out how the magic was worked.

This was Lucien, the griffon rider’s son, albino since birth and thought as frail as the snow his color mimicked.  The old man knew him as well as his father well.  The father for being a hero and warrior, both of the highest virtues.  And, the son for being what the father considered a bane, and Karmatic curse.  A curse gifted to him by the gods in retribution for the lives he had taken in battle.

None of this was unknown.  In fact it was announced at Lucien’s birth that he was a curse.  His father, upon seeing the boy, had cast out his wife with babe in arms screaming that no monster could ever be a son of his.  No ghostly beast would be brought forth into this world and raised by his hands.  And, so the village had Believed, shunned and above all ostracized Lucien for merely being born.  His Father laid down his sword. His mother bereft of heartbreak fell sick and died before he was even two summers old.  And the village had somewhat raised Lucien.  Caring for the boy by leaving table scraps at the door step as one would for a stray animal.  Each member of the town fearing the wrath of the father should they aide the son.

Despite all of this, and as if by some miracle of the gods alone, Lucien grew strong both in mind as well as in body.  He learned to ignore the other children’s stabbing remarks, or at least to hide the pain when they called him a fiend and demon.  Then each night as the sun faded from the sky he would wonder the streets of the town eating his fill and offering letters of thanks to those he visited.

Then something changed. An old man came to the village when Lucien had just began his twelfth summer in the hell he called life.  The other families called him a merlin, or great teacher, one who had seen more than any of them could ever hope to.  Had the old man not decided it was better to settle in the woods Lucien called home, the boy may have never met him.  But, that was not as fate would have it, and for the past two years Lucien had watched the merlin sleep among his trees and spend his days in solitude.

Then it happened on a night in the fall as the leaves began to turn. A few of the older children in an act of nothing short of boyish courage decided they would rid their village of this “fiendish ghost that haunted their night time streets.”

The forest was alive with torch light that night as the boys went crashing through the trees in search of their query. Each foot fall echoing through the forest with the snapping of twigs until they finally found him. Lucien was asleep calmly by the side of a stream beneath the bows of an old willow. He slept soundly in the leaves as the boys crept up to him barely stirring until the first blow of a club smashed into his ribs. The boys prodded at him with eyes full of hate as they pounded away at Lucien’s pale flesh with their sticks and fists. “Look at the little beast,” one urged on, his voice filled with spite.

“Let’s see how much the little fiend can take,” another said with a fiendish smile as his club fell hard into Lucien’s groin with a whimper.

“Not much more,” came another voice but then all fell silent. The last blow falling across Luciens brow with a loud crack.

When he woke the next morning things were a bit different, the tree was gone and Lucien found himself covered in ash. Looking around in complete bewilderment the boy slowly staggered to his feet before his eyes fell to the only other occupant of the stream side. There sitting on a rather large rock was the merlin simply watching the boy contently as Lucien washed his face in the stream.

“Good morning lad,” the merlin said in a cheerful tone. “’Twas a strange night last eve wouldn’t you say? All those fires and such. Then that awful screaming. It was as if the gates of the void opened up.”

Raising a brow Lucien turned his head to meet the old man’s speech. “W-what d-do you mean sire?” Lucien asked unsure of himself or why anyone would even bother speaking to him. “Wasn’t i-it all a d-dream? The boys, their sticks, their fists. That was all real? W-w-why are they doing this to me? What did I ever do to them?”

The merlin sighed realizing the boy knew very little of what happened, before he spoke again choosing his words carefully. “My dear boy, please calm yourself and I will gladly explain.” Motioning to a place beside him the merlin began to speak again once the boy had sat down. “First of all we need to get one thing straight. You did nothing that was unprovoked or for anything more than your survival. Now as to the rest yes it was all real. And, why they did it is most simple. You are different in more ways than even I can guess. Still human, still a good person, and still just a boy. Just special in ways you will be able to know better in time.”

“What do you mean special?” the boy seemed confused as he spoke.

“Oh, that’s nothing to be concerned with,” the old man replied quickly. “We have other matters to attend to anyway.” Looking Lucien over, the old man sighed as he watched the boy cringe and shrink away when he touched his ribs. “Like, for starters, getting you taken care of. After all that was quite the beating you took back there.”

After that night no one in town saw Lucien stalking the streets at night. He had been kept in the company of the merlin. The food they left was there in the morning. And no one knew what happened to the boy. For that matter when the children gathered in the old man’s grove Lucien had kept himself hidden for a while only taking his seat after the others had been captivated by the old man.

And there as he looked at his hand, such a pale, frail thing, the merlin spoke. “Ah, Lucien my boy, how nice of you to join us. I was hoping you would decide to grace us with your presence.”

At these words every one of the youths sitting around the old man turned with a look of shock to the pale boy sitting with his back against a tree. Each little face covered with a horror from what they had heard in rumor and legend via their parents. “Yes, father I thought it about time. Besides I wish to learn as well and you have much to teach,” Lucien replied looking at the old man as if no one else were there.

As they heard the albino’s words the whispers started again, this time angered. Then it happened, one of the boys stood, a year younger than Lucien and for a lack of a better description, round. His limbs were overflowing with layers of fat and face looking so much like that of a pig that one half expected him to squeal, snort, and grunt instead of speak. This same boy started slowly toward Lucien, his fine clothing of velvet and silk straining at the seams with each movement. “What did you call the merlin? Was it father?” The boy spat as he moved, waddling toward Lucien. “How dare you call such a man father. You foul creature. Nothing more than the product of a tainted bitch, a dog with no more use than to catch a man’s seed.” By this time he had reached Lucien his hand raised in a fist and eyes boiling over with anger. “I’ll show you how we deal with your kind, demon.” But, though he tried, the boy’s hand would not fall to strike Lucien, who began to stand slowly.

“Call me what you will, friend,” Lucien began slowly, “strike me if you must, but remember this. I have done nothing to you. I am certain that your parents as well as the other’s here each took pity on me and left scraps for the boy who’s father threw him away. And I will say this from the look of you, your belly has always been most full and will see much more gluttony before it is through.” Then turning he patted the boy on the shoulder and took a seat closer to his adopted father. “Thank you for stopping him father, I have no wish to fight those such as him.”

“You are quite welcome Lucien,” the old man said smiling softly as he turned away from the boy finally allowing the punch to follow through, sending the little pig crashing into the tree. “Now,” the merlin began, his voice more definitive and strong, “Shall we begin again or would someone else like to slander the boy I adopted?”

The response was unanimous as Lucien took his seat, “May we please begin sire?” Nodding the old man watched as the portly boy slunk off into the woods. His guess being that the lad was headed home, his noble nose too far up and pride too deep in the dirt to continue.

“Very well then,” the merlin said with a smile, “Let us begin with an introduction. I believe Lucien started us off on the right foot. Let’s have your names and why it is that you are here.” Smiling the old man spoke with a little laughter, “And do tell the truth, I will know if you don’t.”

Each child then turned to Lucien who was nodding before they could even ask if it was true. As if he had already been expecting their reaction. “Hey, if a man can produce flames in his hands, tells you he’ll know when you lie, he is probably telling the truth.” Lucien said with a bit of sarcasm in his voice while he sat there.

“Good,” the merlin said calmly, “Then let us begin with you miss.” As he pointed, his finger landed on a timid looking girl with bright red hair and deep green eyes.

Shrinking back even more the girl spoke in a voice that was no more than a whisper, “M-me sire?”

“Yes you my dear,” he said with a smile.

“Well sire,” she spoke stuttering as she looked down playing with the dirt between her toes. “I suppose I’m here because my father told me to be. You see I’ve come to the age where I should be married but none will have me promised to them. Father says a girl is no good if you can’t have her married off so he sent me to you. Said maybe the old coot in the woods ‘ll have me.” By the time the girl finished she was in tears. Her green eyes bloodshot with grief and pain.

“I see,” he said calmly, “Then gather your things from home and be back by nightfall my dear. But, before you go do be so kind as to tell me your name.”

“Oh, yes. Sorry sire. I am Sylvia O’reen.”

“Very well Sylvia, off with you then.”

At his words Sylvia stood and turned toward the town her eyes teared and her sobs still causing her to convulse. “Lucien,” the old man said quietly, “Go with her won’t you?”

Looking up Lucien seemed surprised, “Of course father.”

“We can’t have a lady bringing her worldly possessions here alone. I am sure it is far too much to carry all that way.”

“As you wish father,” Lucien said with a nod and stood moving with Sylvia toward the edge of the grove. The last thing they heard was the old man speaking again in soft tones to the others and selecting the next child for introduction.