The sickening smell of death, rot and decay. It was something painfully too familiar to the child who hid in the shadows of the passerby. It was all around him in this sad excuse for a traveler's town. It barely held enough life to out way the dead that littered alleys and even into the streets. Families broken, children crying and the elderly praying for those departed, some even begging to join them. It wasn't a pretty sight but that's what life was in the eyes of the young boy. To have a quiet and peaceful life was merely an illusion, a lie that he was fed until reality slapped him across the face. To fight for life was almost a fool's errand. Everyone would die in the end. That's what ran through his mind as he watched traveling merchants bark for their wares, folks trying to find a new home hustling past the crowds, and even a few stray fallen nobles, bellowing through a drunken state about how they had lost it all. Their sounds all mixing together into a nonsense of noise, only with an occasional voice sticking out.
Could he have been one of those fools he saw struggling to make it through each day? He doubted himself as a man collapsed against the stone path just a little ways from him. Grey hair, scruffy looking beard and sickly thin with red staining his clothing, he recognized the man. Someone from a long time ago. He watched him gasp and wheeze, red liquid pooling thinly around him as he stared at the boy's face as if asking for mercy from a higher being. It wasn't long until the man went limp, silent as his eyes closed one last time, never to open again. The boy however, felt nothing at the sight. No remorse, no guilt, not even the touch of pity he had when he first arrived. It had been taken from him like everything else that day. With a sigh the boy lowered his head, closing himself off from the world for a while as his mind raced with memories.
Fog began to filter into his mind, blocking out what was all around. A numbness caused him to shiver, uncertain if it was truly the cold, or just another trick his mind was playing. The clouding continued and eventually the sounds of the town twisted into a shushed lapping of water, hitting rocks over an unseen shore. The sounds of home. Birds crying loudly, their shrieks being carried in the wind that pushed the metal chimes playfully through a melody. The soft banter of the waves touching ever so gracefully against small feet. Toes digging into the warm sand, finding the cool below the surface. The boy could almost feel the sun kissing him from above, telling him that life was maybe, if just for a moment, okay. A sigh escaped him as he opened his eyes, begging for it to all be true. He is however, not surprised to know that it could have only had been a lie. The cold corpse of the man was all that greeted him, as not even the sun shone through the thick clouds. Wrapping his arms close around himself, the boy wanted nothing more than to simply cry. It was a torment, having such memories dangled in front of him only to be ripped away. He knew that if he wasn't careful though, the memories might drag him too far in. They could cause him to slip away, lifeless without notice from anyone. Not even himself. He asked himself quietly what the point was to keep living. What was he fighting for in the end?
Revenge perhaps? No. It was useless to try and get revenge. He is too small, too weak to even fight off the stray dogs that harass him when he manages to scrape up something remotely close to food. He would be killed faster than he could blink. Perhaps he sought something. But what could he be looking for? He found quite a bit on his travels, mostly death and suffering, but with silver lining. Knowledge and wisdom, far beyond his few years. But truly, what was he living for? He reached up and habitually touched the bandages that covered his right eye, flinching at the pain that seeped into his skull. It was that pain that told him he had done what he saw as right. It spoke in loud words, 'you are alive because your will is strong'. Maybe that was why he was alive?
Too stubborn to just lay down and perish, allowing the world to pull him back in, use what remained of him to further something else. The boy looked towards the sky, envious of the shapes he saw soaring below the dark clouds. He wished he could be like them but he was more like an injured bird. A mess of fear and feathers in the eyes of the creature as it waited in hopes it would not die that day. But to the starving cat, that bird was much like a gift. A sliver of hope that the cat could live on another day. Maybe that was why he was alive? All this thinking was giving the boy a headache. He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts slip away, soaking in the remains of the day before the sting of the cold night threatened him once again.
Startled awake by the sounds of footsteps approaching, the boy lifted his head quickly. The world around him was dark, the only light shining in from the windows of rundown buildings. How long had he been asleep? Someone was walking fast in his direction and the boy knew that if he didn't move, it could mean death. He rushed to get to his feet, but his body protested, leaving him to borrow stability from the wall of the alley. He had nowhere to run, not that his legs would allow him to. The boy stood his ground, trying to look off-putting if not menacing, his good eye shining with hate as he glared into the fuzzy mess of darkness in front of him. A shape took form, a person he could tell. It stopped a mere arms length away from him, standing tall and sure. Intimidated, the boy tried to shrink back, hoping he could inch away in the dark before the figure let out a sharp, commanding voice. "Are you alone kid?" The voice was that of a young man, quite a few years older than the boy. Unease set into the child as he stayed quiet. "Are you on your own? No family?" The voice got a little louder, as if unsure of if the boy could hear it.
Against his better judgement, the boy nodded, tensing up for anything. "Don't worry kid. I'm not here to hurt you." The stranger reached out and the boy caught a glimpse of the others face. He looked strong, determined and to be honest, a little scary. As much as his instincts told him to run, the dominant air around this new person had him frozen to the spot. The boy's mind raced and his body felt warm. A feeling he knew better than to allow to be seen, but somehow it still escaped. A quick sparking ember snapped to life between them, causing the older boy to yank his hand back. "Hey now!." The young man snapped, surprisingly unfazed by the flicker of light. "No need to get upset with me. You clearly have a special skill but you don't seem like you have quite the hang of it yet." The boy's head lowered, knowing what he said was true. Something ran through his blood, something deadly and impure. The heat of fire ran wild through him and reared up when he least could control it. Most adults saw him as a freak, some sort of a threat. He was hated for it.
The older boy stared questionably at the other, as he knelt down to be at eye level with the child. "Look kid. I have a little group with me. We're mercenaries. Or...at least we will be. You could come with us. Put this place behind you and see the world." Silence was given, but yet he pressed on. "We have another boy right around your age so you wouldn't be alone." A smile crossed the older boy's lips as he seemed to reminisce fondly. Again, the child stayed silent, refusing to give anything away. It seemed like forever as the air between them fell silent save for a small sigh from the older. "You don't have to join me, but if you do, we'll take care of you. We can teach you to fight and become strong and control that fiery little temper of yours." He chuckled before standing upright again, stretching lightly before turning his back. "We plan to leave tomorrow, so if you need to, think about it overnight. We'll wait by the gate at sunrise. By midday, we'll be gone." With not even a glance back, the older boy was gone. Leaving the child alone, cold in the darkness surrounding him, and trapped in his mind. What will he do?
"You think he'll show?" Syrenne asked, sitting atop one of the many rocks littering the pathway just outside the front gate. Dagran looked up at the young woman and sighed. "Just give him a little bit. It's barely sunrise anyway." She in turn, gave a loud huff and leaned back, nearly falling backwards much to her annoyance. Dagran chuckled as the current youngest of their family ran out from behind the rock where Syrenne had been lounging. "Don't fall on me!" He cried, dodging behind Dagran. "Whatever pipsqueak. So anyway Dag, you never did tell us much about this kid. You just strolled back last night with a smirk on your face, telling us you found a new recruit." Zael peeked out from behind his protector. "Yeah! What's he like?" Dagran stretched his arms out. "He's quiet. That's for sure. But he has potential... He nearly set me on fire for just talking to him."
Syrenne perked up at the thought. "Fire? As in he's a mage? How old is he anyway?" Zael was honestly curious. Dagran had told him some time ago that it was uncommon for mages to be young as the abilities and skill it took to wield magic took time to perfect. The way he was talking, Zael couldn't help but imagine this new person to be about the same age as Dagran and Syrenne at the very least. "Well you can ask him yourself." Dagran stated simply, turning his attention to the child approaching them. Syrenne and Zael both looked over, disbelief evident on their faces. "That's him?" Syrenne all but about yelled, jumping to her feet in shock. "He's just a little kid! Pipsqueak doesn't even look older than Zael!" The boy flinched, stopping short of the trio. "Shush Syrenne." Dagran hissed before turning his attention back to the child. "Glad to see you took me up on the offer. The foul mouthed gal over there is Syrenne. Don't let her attitude get to you. She's really quite nice when she wants to be." Dagran chuckled as he caught a little bit of pink touch her face. "And this..." Zael poked his head around towards the new kid, curious. "This is Zael. He's about your age. I'm sure you two will get along well." The boy seemed curious, taking an extra moment to watch Zael as he ran over, nearly knocking him down with excitement. "As for me kiddo, call me Dagran." Syrenne jumped down, landing with little grace next to Dagran. "So? You know us kid. What's your name?" The child looked over, confused for a moment before looking down.
"...Yurick..."
He had no idea what it was he was after in life, or what the world had planned for him. However, this was the next step. He was sure of it.
Author comments: I'm not really sure about this. It was a little idea stuck in my head and I just had to write it down.
In case anyone is curious, I took a little liberty with the group. Takes place just before Lowell joins in, but quite a time before Mirania does. Ages are a bit of liberty too. Dagran and Syrenne being 15 at the time, Zael being 10 and Yurick, 7. Just my own little thoughts. If you see them as different, then so be it. I'm not gonna pick apart anything. Now pardon me as I go lay down before I need to go to work in less than 6 hours. Whoops.