Chapter 1

: Thwunk :

The crude iron axe head bit deep into the trunk of the pine tree. It rested for a moment as calloused fingers tightened on the birch handle. A contraction of muscles along with the application of leverage, saw the axe head pulled from the trunk.

: Thwunk :

Another swing from powerful shoulders, saw the axe bite at a mirrored offset to the previous blow and a neat wedge of pine jumped out of the cut to join the others at his feet. The cut was deep. It wouldn’t be long now. As if hearing his thoughts, an ominous creak sounded from the trunk and Marr stepped back and checked that the fall area was clear and that no-one was about to be in danger. Satisfied, another swing, powered by his muscular shoulders, set the pine tree’s fall irrevocably in motion.

With a cracking of branches, the trunk shuddered as it crashed, mostly, in the area Marr had wanted it to.

“Marr!”

He turned round to see his little sister making her way carefully through the shorn branches strewn across the ground between the felled trunks. She waved a hand in his direction.

“Adeena,” He sighed. “You know that you are not supposed to be here. It’s dangerous.”

“I know.” She said with all the innocence of youth.

“I know why you are here. You’re dodging your chores again.”

“I’m not!” The belligerent tone revealing the truth.

“Uh-huh.”

She smiled up at him as she carefully picked her way through the branches, sharp intakes of breath when her bare legs failed to clear the prickly branches.

“It’s not safe for you to be here Ads. A tree might fall on you and you might damage the trunk.”

She playfully stuck out her tongue as she reached him. Marr casually swung the axe into the fresh stump to hold it as she attempted to wrap her arms fully around his waist, not quite making it, though the gap was reducing by the year. He wrapped his own arms around her shoulders and hugged her close.

“I’ll not let you blame me for your chores not being done Ads.”

She let out a large, put upon sigh, into his stomach. Marr ran his left hand over the crown of her head and down her maidens braid, leaving traces of sap behind as he did so.

“Go home Ads, mother will be annoyed otherwise.”

“Eagle!” She demanded imperiously.

“Ads...”

“Eagle!”

Marr shook his head. “Okay. But you have to go home and do the chores you claim to have done already.” Another pout, though her eyes told Marr that she had no intention of doing so. “Come on then.”

Adeena giggled as he spun her about. He pulled her dress, their mothers work, tight around her body, holding the gathered loose wool in his right hand at the small of her back. She screamed in excitement as he easily lifted her one handed into the air, her head and upper torso falling towards the ground as her heels swung up so that she hung horizontally in his tight grip. Marr started to turn, swinging his sister out as he did so. The increasing momentum of his spin making it easier to hold her out to the full extent of his reach.

Letting out a squeal of excitement, Adeena extended her own arms outwards, like a bird with wings. Marr allowed his arm to dip and rise, dropping his sister perilously close to the recently downed trunk, making her squeal all the louder as he lifted her clear at the last moment. Some of the other foresters working nearby, stopped to watch, point and laugh as her innocent laughter echoed off the valley sides.

Eventually he slowed his spin, gently lowering her breathless back onto her feet.

“Now go home, before mother puts us both across her knee...”

Marr watched her leave, gave his head a rueful shake and pulled his axe from the stump, turning his attention back to the task at hand.

On the way home, Marr stopped by the stream to refill his water pouch and to wash the sweat and dirt from his torso, though the drops of sap refused to budge from his skin.

His parents house sat on the outskirts of the small cluster of hovels. It had been originally timber walled and thatched of roof. The thatch was still there but Marr had built up solid walls of clay from the river, mixed in with the stems of the reeds that grew along the edge. The mixture had set hard in the sun and was now providing more support than the slowly rotting timber walls. The floor was also made from the mix of river clay and reed, complimented by matts weaved from the river reeds by his mother and sister.

Their home consisted of just the one room. A fire was currently lit in the fireplace at one end and two beds took up the opposing gable, a bed along each wall, leaving a small space in-between in which to move.

Marr closed the wooden door, kicking the wooden door wedge into place with a leather booted foot. On the wall opposing the door, was an open window. The only barrier between the world outside and the room inside, was a pair of wooden shutters, which were currently partly open to let the last of the days light in. His parents and sister were sat on the rushes in front of the banked fire, eating the last meal of the day. Between them and the fire, splayed out, was their cat.

It wasn’t really their cat. A few years previous, during a bad winter storm, it had appeared sodden and shivering. It stayed the night and then never left. It slowly cracked an eye open at Marrs entrance, stretched out its limbs and claws, and slowly shut it’s eye again. Adeena had demanded the right to name it and once she had harangued every one else to do so, she had then proceeded to simply name him ‘Cat’.

Marr placed his axe next to the door and started to unlace the leather thongs from around his boots before pulling them off and leaving them next to his axe. Adeena leapt up to gather a bowl in which to label a dollop of stew from the pot hanging above the fire.

Adeena was already wearing her short sleeping shift and the backs of her thighs were exposed enough for Marr to see the red skin. Given her quiet demeanour along with the red skin, it was enough to tell Marr that her chores had indeed been skipped.

He shook his head, having more than once in the distant past, felt the palm of his parents hands on his backside. He hadn’t been any better at her age. Just taller.

Adeena handed Marr a wooden bowl and wooden spoon and he sat down cross legged on the floor. She sat down next to him, ensuring that he was between her and her mother. She leaned against him and rested her head against his side.

Their mother brought some coin in with her weaving and knitting and their father worked in the fields. The coin was not great, but they had food, warmth and their health, which made them amongst the richest in the hamlet.

Marr scraped the last of the stew from the bowl and sucked the last of the juices from the spoon.

The fire crackled, causing the cat’s ears to twitch as the smoke made its way up to the hole in the thatch. Reed baskets hung from the ceiling beams, holding tubers and clay pots containing pickled berries and fruit for the coming winter.

Adeena took his bowl and spoon, cleaned them in the water bucket as their father closed the shutters against the rapidly falling night.

Marr stretched his neck and shoulders, stood and made his way to the bed he shared with his sister. He climbed onto it and she followed, pressing her back against his front. Marr pulled the blanket over them both and draped an arm over her, which she clung onto. There followed the pad of tiny feet then a moment of silence and then a ‘thump’ as Cat landed on the bed. Cat snuggled up against Adeena and moments later his loud purrs assailed Marr’s ears. It was soothing and Marr was quickly asleep.

Their mother prepared a simple breakfast of porridge with a drop of honey from a jar.

Adeena should have been helping, but like most mornings, she was the last to rise. Even the cat had jumped out the window as soon as their father had opened the shutters.

“Thanks mum.” Marr handed the empty wooden bowl and spoon back and moved to the collection of jars in the corner. Picking out a specific one, he undid the leather thong around the neck and removed the woven square that was it’s lid. Dipping his fingers into the grain inside, he fished around till he felt the touch of a copper bit amongst the tin. He withdrew a half copper bit and replaced the lid and returned the jar to it’s fellows. The half copper bit he placed in his leather pouch tucked safely into his belt. He kissed his mother on the forehead.

“See you later mum.”

“Be safe out there love. Take care.”

“I always do.” He nodded to his father “Dad.”

“Son.”

Marr moved over to his bed, stroked a hand over his sisters hair, eliciting a grumble of protest as she pulled the blanket over her head. Marr laughed and collected his boots, axe and water pouch from its hook next to the door.

Marr surveyed the freshly shorn trunk and glanced up at the sun and it’s position. It was time. Picking up his leather jerkin and his empty leather water pouch, Marr slung the jerkin over his bare shoulder and headed back to the hamlet. This time, he did not head home, but to the dilapidated hut where Geebil lived.

Geebil was a war veteran. Of what war, he never said. He never talked of his time before he arrived here and all the hamlet knew, was that whatever, or wherever he had last seen battle, he had lost his left arm from the elbow down. He had no real skills that the hamlet could use, or had found a use for, but he didn’t cause trouble and mostly kept to himself.

All the young boys went through a period of paying him tin bits for training with swords. A period that usually became popular after a travelling story man had passed through, regaling the denizens of the hamlet with tales of daring do and sacrifice by heroic males. All for the attention of some princess who never became aware of his presence till after he died. Mostly.

Marr had been one of those boys once, but unlike the other boys his age, the dream of being some princess’s knight in shining armour, or some fabled warrior, had never left him, and he had stuck with the training. Geebil had no actual swords, just a collection of wooden ones to fit the age and musculature of the young wielders. Marr had once asked him about it and Geebil had simply replied “If you can do it with a wooden stick, you can do it with a metal one.”

Most of the actual ‘fighting’ seemed to simply be body stance and positioning. Which quickly made the young students bored and they would rapidly find something more exciting, and cheaper, to do. Much to the relief of parents concerned that their male children would leave, seeking war.

Marr had stayed the course. Geebil was waiting for him, two wooden swords on the ground next to the stool he was sat upon. Marr fished out his pouch, opened it and handed over the half copper bit, receiving a wooden sword in return. Adopting the ‘ready’ stance, Marr fully intended to get his monies worth.

Marr had just knocked his last opponent to the ground, sword tip at their throat. All that was left, was their graceful surrender, the cheer of the crowd and his prize from the king, whose daughter was going to be looking at him in a manner that implied a prize later far greater than the kings congratulations.

The fallen Knight batted away Marr’s sword tip with a gauntleted hand and a poor display of sportsmanship. The crowd booed, the shouts turning to a worry that didn’t fit in with the scenario.

Marr roused, lifted his head from the bed. Cat was up as well, ears alert, body poised in readiness for fight or flight. Across from Marr, in their bed, his parents stirred, eyes opening. More shouts from outside. The weak light sliding through the cracks in the shutters told Marr that dawn was not long past. Still too early for people to be up and about. Yet there were raised voices. Several raised voices.

Climbing as gently as he could over Adeena, Marr slipped his trousers on over his loincloth and donned his boots, quickly lacing both up. Bare chested, he knocked the door wedge aside with his foot, took hold of his axe and stepped outside as Cat sped out between his legs.

His parents sat up, looking worriedly at each other and Adeena slept on, oblivious to everything. The cause of the disturbance was immediately obvious. Riders in black surrounded the hamlet. There were only ten or so of them from what little Marr could see and the space between them wouldn’t have stopped even a half hearted attempt to flee the hamlet.

The couple of riders that Marr could see, just sat calmly on their horses. Resting on the saddle in front of them, were large, loaded, crossbows. It was the crossbows alone that ensured the villagers kept their distance.

“Who are they? “Asked someone.

It was Geebil who answered. “Mage Guard.” He made no attempt to hide the contempt in his voice. Marr made his way to the centre of the hamlet and joined the growing number of villagers.

“What are Mage Guard doing here?” Asked Marr.

Geebil didn’t reply, just shrugged.

“I don’t see any Mages” said another. Neither did Marr, though he had no idea what a Mage even looked like.

The sound of horses hooves growing louder made everyone turn to the East.

Nothing could be seen due to positioning of a couple of hovels, so the crowd started to move past them to the edge of the hamlet. Slowly plodding along the road, was a highly ornate carriage. Behind that was a canopied wagon and further behind that, was a wooden walled carriage. The wooden walled carriage stopped well away from the hamlet, the canopied one on the outskirts and the ornate carriage made its way inside. Once it stopped, three men in black and intricately embellished robes climbed out and the two mage guard who had been riding on a ledge at the front of the carriage, behind the horses, also climbed down.

The three black robed men stood and surveyed the inhabitants. All three of the men appeared to be at least fifty years of age. Grey haired and sporting equally grey short beards. The two Mage Guard retrieved items from the top of the carriage which turned out to be two folding seats and a folding table. One of the black robed men addressed the crowd.

“I am Magister, Mastal. I am here under the purview of your king and the Mage Tower. My duties here are to carry out a census and sounding.”

Marr had no idea as to what a Census or a Sounding was.

A small hand slipped into his and he looked down to see the top of Adeena’s head.

His parents came to stand next to him as a book and an inkwell were placed on the table in front of Magister Mastal, who sat and opened both. One of the Mages sat in the other chair and the third Mage seemed to be bored with the proceedings and wandered off, between the hovels.

“Come forward in your family groups. State your names, occupation, age if known, and then stand over there. Once everyone has been recorded. You can go about your daily business. So it’s in your interest to answer any questions honestly and promptly. We’ll start with you. Step lively man.”

Calgor gave his name, profession as a woodcutter and age. His wife and two young daughters followed. The Mage dipped the quill in the inkwell, tapped the nib twice on the rim of the jar and quickly inked their details in the book.

It was a quick process once everyone else had seen that was all there was to it. Marr suddenly felt funny, as though his bones were buzzing. The sensation was not unlike the sound of bee’s near their hive. It was making him nervous and jumpy. Marr looked around and no-one else seemed to be unsettled. Both the Mages at the table were looking at him. Marr looked away.

“Next!” Barked Magister Mastal and another family stepped up to the table.

The buzzing subsided and went away. Marr tried to put the incident out of his mind.

“Next!” Marr’s father stepped forward, wife and children followed. Marr looked down at the book as his father supplied their details. Marr could neither write, nor read, so the markings meant nothing to him.

“Next!” Marr and his family joined the group of processed.

The third mage made his way back to his two fellows. “One sounded, two hiding.” He turned to the two Mage Guard nearby. “In the hovel with the Peony’s on the door.”

Knowing who lived there, Marr looked towards Gale and his wife. Their twin ten year old girls were missing. The two Mage Guard marched off and within a minute of entering, exited dragging the two screaming girls.

Magister Mastal sighed, sprinkled some sand over the page he had been writing on and turned back a page.

“Name and age?” The mage amended the previous entry and sent the girl’s to join their parents.

As the last villager was recorded, the mage again sprinkled fine sand across the page as he meticulously cleaned the nib of his pen.

“You are free to go on with your day. Whatever that entails. Except you boy.” He pointed the feather in Marr’s direction. “Come here.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Marr said automatically.

“Come here boy! I haven’t got all day.”

Marr extricated himself from his sister’s tight grip and moved to stand in front of the two seated mages. The mage sat next to Magister Mastal snorted and spoke for the first time.

“There’s going to be no hiding for you at the Tower.” The two seated mages shared an amused look.

A feeling like he had just run out of a warm hut and jumped naked into the washing pools, in winter, took hold of his body and he shivered from head to toe, causing him to blurt out a nonsense word. “Wover...”

“Definitely him.” said the third mage approaching from behind. “A strong one. In both the arts and in body.”

Magister Mastal looked past Marr. “Who are this boy’s parents?” Marr’s parents stepped forward “Under the Debrie accords between King Farrel and the Tower, the Tower retains the right to take those subjects of King Farrel blessed with the art and ensure their correct training within the tower so they can serve the Tower and ultimately, the king. You will travel with us, boy.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“Your ‘wants’ are of no concern to me boy. You can go willingly, of your own free will, or you can be bound and stored with the luggage. It matters not to me.” Magister Mastal carefully tilted the book over the pouch containing the sand and tapped the book to ensure as much of the sand as possible left the page. Satisfied that the page was as sand free as it was going to get, he closed the ledger and bound it closed with a leather thong, handing it to one of the Mage Guard. “You are permitted to take only what you can carry on your person easily. You have a few minutes to say your goodbyes. I suggest that you use them wisely.”

The Mage Guard who had taken the ledger, came back with a small leather pouch, which he handed to Magister Mastal. “You. The boy’s father. Come here. Step lively man!” Marr’s father approached and the magister handed over the pouch to him. “The Tower’s recompense for the servitude of the novice who used to be your son.”

His father looked inside and said nothing, handing it over to his stunned wife.

“How long am I away for, at this Tower?”

“However long it takes boy.”

“I can come back after?”

“If you wish and if the Tower permits.”

His mother was crying as was his sister, who was now clinging tightly to him.

“Say your goodbyes boy.” The two mages stood and headed towards their carriage as the Mage guard collapsed the table and chairs, storing them back on the carriage.

“Don’t go!” Screamed Adeena into his stomach.

“Time to go lad.” ordered the Mage Guard. He leaned in closer, so as to whisper in Marr’s ear. “It’s better for you to walk away as a man, than to be dragged away screaming like a child or beast. Trust me, it’s better for the loved ones you leave behind.”

Marr pulled his sisters arms from around him.

“I’ll be back Ads. I promise. Go to mum.”

“No!”

“Ads, go to mum. I’ll be back.”

Tears were running freely down her face, a large drip of snot hung from the end of her nose.

“You promise?” she sobbed.

“I promise Ads. When have I ever broken a promise to you?” He pushed her towards their mother.

His parents clung on to their daughter and Marr turned to the Guard who was stood at the back of the covered wagon. The Mage’s carriage was already leaving the hamlet. He had no possessions other than his axe and the clothes on his back. The axe, he handed to Carl. The guard walked with him to the wagon.

“Good lad.” He said calmly out the corner of his mouth.

Inside the wagon were nine bored looking boys, one of whom looked to have taken a beating recently.

Marr put his hands on the tail gate and looked over at his parents. Adeena had her face buried in their mothers skirts. His mother was crying and his father looked like a statue. Marr easily pulled himself into the back as the Mage Guard who had walked with him, climbed onto the back of a horse that another Mage Guard had brought over.

“Move out!” shouted the Mage Guard and the wagon jerked into motion.

Marr had just sat down on the very uncomfortable bench seat when the wagon lurched into motion. Looking around at the other boys, revealed all were younger than he was. Their ages starting at what appeared to be ten years of age. None were as tall as he was, though a couple were of stocky build. They were a quiet, miserable looking bunch.

“What happened to him?” Marr pointed at the boy with the badly bruised face.

“We are not allowed to talk!” Hissed the boy next to him through his teeth.

“Oh.”

“He didn’t want to go to the Tower.” The boy said quietly again.

“Oh.”

The sound of horseshoes grew louder and one of the Mage Guard steered his horse to the back of the wagon and glared inside. Marr met his gaze and dared him to say something.

The Mage Guard steered his horse away again.

They spent the night sleeping out in the open, under the wagon. The Mage Guard kept one of their member awake all night, rotating the individual every couple of hours by Marr’s reckoning.

Food during the journey, was turning out to consist of just dried biscuit and water. If this was going to be their meals from now on, Marr was regretting his choice to be taken to this ‘Tower’.

The next day, they came across three hovels. On arrival, Marr felt the shiver down his spine which he was beginning to associate with a sounding.

An accounting of the hovels was made. There were no new additions to the wagon and their journey continued.

It was another six or seven days, Marr was finding it hard to keep track of the days, before the monotony was broken. It was at another small cluster of hovels and not long after he felt the usual shiver down his spine, when the sound of screaming reached the ears of those in the back of the wagon.

Booted footsteps and muffled cries grew louder and Marr looked round the rear corner of the wagon. A girl about Marr’s age, was being dragged between two of the Mage Guard. Her hands were bound behind her back and her mouth was gagged by some sort of metal implement that that encircled her neck and looped over the crown of her head. Blood was running from around the sides of the metal plug that filled her mouth, dripping from her chin.

The girl’s body had the curves of early womanhood, though her brown hair was still bound in a maidens braid. Their eyes met and even partly obscured as it was by the metal cage over her head, Marr thought she was beautiful. His blood stirred along with his loins.

She looked at him pleadingly, pain and fear filled her beautiful eyes.

“Back inside boy!” Ordered one of the Mage Guard dragging the girl.

Marr felt a tug at his back as the boy beside him urged him to sit back down. Marr sat.

“Witch!” One of the boys further in the depths of the carriage whispered with fear.

The girl was dragged to the enclosed carriage and thrown inside, the door bolted again on the outside.

That night, Marr’s dreams were confused. In some, he rescued the girl, in others she slaughtered them all, conjuring beasts from the tales of the travelling story-men.

It wasn’t a good night for him.

About a week after the incident with the girl, the witch, they were told that they would be heading back to the Tower. That afternoon they clattered their way into a valley. It was a surprise when they stopped. They only stopped when it was time to rest for the night, and when they reached a habitation that required a sounding and an accounting.

“Get out!” Barked a Mage Guard.

The boys climbed out of the wagon. Marr was stiff and sore from being inactive for so long and from the ride quality itself. They were handed picks and shovels and led a fair way away from the wagons.

The wagon with the ‘witches’ always hung back from the wagon with the boys and the carriage with the Mage’s. In whispers, Marr had been told that there were at least four young girls in there.

“Dig!” Was the order from the Mage Guard watching over them.

“How deep?” Marr dared to ask him.

“Till I say ‘stop’ deep.”

There seemed little point in arguing, so Marr pushed the shovel into the ground with his foot.

It felt good to be doing something energetic and physical again. None of the other boys seemed to share Marr’s enthusiasm for the physical exertion.

They couldn’t all fit in the hole they were digging, so their guard sent most of the other boys away into the surrounding area, to collect stones as large as they could carry. They liked that chore even less.

The end result of their labours, was a hole to Marr’s waist in depth and about five feet square with a large pile of rocks to the side. They were led back to their wagon as night was falling. Another meal of hard biscuit and water followed.

The other boys were quickly asleep, their snores loud in the night. It took Marr, used and conditioned to hard labour, longer.

It felt to Marr that he had just drifted off, when something awoke him. It was probably just the Guard changing, but he still tried to pierce the surrounding darkness with his ears. He heard something in the distance. A strange sound, not unlike the sound the knives of hunters made when they pierced the hide and started to clean and skin freshly caught deer.

Marr sat up, made to stand, when the figure of one the Guard appeared next to him, lit by the moon’s light. The Guard shook his head. No words were said, none were needed, such was the command in that shake of the head. Marr lay back down.

“Rise and shine novices!”

Marr was already awake, the others needed the kicks of the Guard to awaken them.

Just shovels this time were handed out and again they were led away from the wagon. The direction was familiar to Marr, having walked the route the afternoon previous. The hole was still there, only now it was shallower, having been lined across the bottom by the stones the boys had collected the day before.

“Fill it back in.”

There were a couple of quiet groans from some of the boys, but not too loud as to attract a blow to the face in retribution. Marr, as usual, was the first to plant his spade in the heaped soil and cast the first spade full. The others slowly followed his lead. Marr buried his shovel again into the loose soil heap and cast another shovel full.

Something caught his eye. There was an object which lay under the stones that he had glimpsed in a small gap between the stones. He paused to take a closer look.

“I didn’t say that you could pause boy!”

Marr glanced up at the Guard then back to the rocks, but another boy had dumped his shovel full of earth over the spot that had caught Marr’s eye.

The boys were a lot quicker in filling in the mysterious pit than they were in digging it out.

As soon as their task was completed, they were ushered back into the wagon and their journey resumed.

Leaning back against the uncomfortable side board of the wagon as it vibrated and jerked with every bump in the tracks surface, Marr let his mind drift. He thought again of the bound and crying girl. How pretty she was. How he would like to get to know her better, be the one to rescue her. To be the one to untie her maidens braid. Maidens braid...

Marr thought back to the pit and what he had seen. He felt suddenly cold, shivered, and turned to look back at the enclosed carriage. The carriage that had always kept its distance. The carriage that was now following closely behind them and now had sunlight shining through windows that had been previously hidden from view by wooden shutters.

It was an unfathomable thought, but yet, the facts were there. Or maybe he had it all wrong. He was jumping to conclusions. Wrong conclusions. She had been so pretty. So innocent. like his sister Adeena, but older. Nobody would do that. Would they? Why hadn’t he done something. Why didn’t he do something. But what? If his horrors were realised, they were all dead. All the girls. Buried in an unmarked grave that he had helped dig. Helped fill back in. He felt sick. Loathed himself. Loathed his inability to do anything.