Watcher
Disclaimer: The characterisations are partly mine, but the characters themselves are not mine, the plot is mine but it fits into a story that is not mine, and I do not mean to impose on any who may be insulted by my use of them.
Prologue – Departure
The dark hooded figure, so hard to distinguish at such a distance, slinked from deep shadow to deep shadow as it made its way towards the wall. Sordric watched with a mixture of sadness and brilliant pride as the moving shadow leapt up, mounted the wall, and then slipped down the other side.
Freedom, Sordric thought, would be a splendid thing.
'Sordric Watcher,' his mother's voice cried. 'Come away from that window. It's bed time, and the night is never a friendly place.'
'It is if you don't want to be seen,' Sordric muttered as he lowered himself away from the window ledge. His mother was kind enough, but not a woman to be trifled with. None of the ladies of court stood for silliness, least of all his mother, who had struggled so hard to retain her position after the death of her husband. The pregnancy had saved her, but only because the child had been male.
'What was that?' she asked. Half a moment later she deemed it unimportant. 'Did you eat your dinner?' Spying his empty plate, she nodded to herself, reassured. Such an odd habit – asking a question one can already answer.
'Mother, will you ever cease to treat me like a five year old?' Sordric said, rolling his eyes. His mother laughed fondly, her airs fading for a moment and the true warmth showing through her eyes.
'Perhaps when you turn eighteen, and begin your training, I shall cease to treat you like a child. Until then, you are under my care alone, and you shall remain my darling boy.'
Sordric sighed. Eight damned months, and it would all change. How he wished he had followed that other young man that night. He had watched him preparing for this move for days, even tracked him as he lead the horse out to await him beyond the wall. In eight months, on his eighteenth birthday, Sordric's normal studies would cease and, as the son of a nobleman, he would be recruited into the King's service in whatever capacity he was deemed suitable.
Sordric washed his face and hands in the bowl of warm water, and lifted an extra blanket from the pile. He kissed his mother goodnight and then slipped into his chambers where the cold bed awaited. Sordric veered around the bed, wrapping himself in his blanket as he went, and sat by the window.
The night was empty, but for the small glowing shapes of lantern-bearing watchmen roaming the walls. Beyond that wall was the city, and beyond the city was a world that Sordric had only ever seen on maps, lines and letters depicting something so large that his mind couldn't even begin to comprehend. Every part of Sordric's body ached for the land beyond. He wanted to be able to saddle a horse and ride North, to the forest of Du Weldenvarden, or South to Surda and the oceans beyond, West, to the much-feared, mysterious Spine, and finally East, into the Hadarac where the earth had seen so much sun in its life that it had dried – a vast ocean of sand ringed by mountains and forests.
'You always thought I was too young to ride with you, Murtagh,' Sordric whispered to the land beyond the city. 'But what have you condemned me to, my only friend, by leaving me here this night?'