Book one: taste of combat

A sample from chapter 5, shortly after Tyr’eshal’s initiation. Beta content, subject to change.

Previous sample – prologue.

A scene where Kraasian’s son, Tyr’eshal, first gets into combat – and gets to use the advantages of being a warrior with some magical talent. This scene is a sample of combat sequence, chosen for the absence of potential spoilers.

Disclaimer: What you are reading is beta-stage content and subject to change. Typos and other small issues might be present – and will be fixed in future drafts.


One day, when Tyr’eshal was on his tour of duty, a thought crossed his mind, something he was told earlier. Guards are not to create peace with force. They are there to mitigate dangers that would require using force to be used. He was not let to continue his train of thought much longer. He could not describe what it was, but something deep in his mind urged him to walk faster.

As he reached one of the paths, he came to an abrupt stop as a voice spoke to his mind. Hide; wait and watch, it said. He listened carefully and soon heard faint footsteps, their frequency hinting that the incoming person was closer to running than just walking. Not sure what to expect, he unsheathed his sword as silently as he could and hid behind a tree.

A villager soon came into his view, half-walking, half-running; carrying a small pouch in one hand. The simple linen clothes made him look like a farmer. Tyr’eshal was not sure what to expect. Was this person trying to smuggle seeds of some dangerous plant? Soon, Tyr’eshal saw that the reason of the warning he was given was different. The villager was not the danger; the villager was in danger. When the villager got closer to one of the larger trees, a hooded figure stepped in his way.

“Halt,” the masked figure said, pulling out a curved knife. “What is in the pouch?”

The villager was visibly terrified. “Nothing much, just some seeds.”

The ambusher’s frown was barely noticeable as the cowl and mask only revealed its eyes and brows. “No money?” The shocked farmer did not speak, his terrified expression being all he could do. “I asked. No money?” the rogue asked again, more loudly.

At this point, Tyr’eshal stepped from his cover, just a few meters behind them. “You won’t need his answer anymore,” Tyr’eshal said, sword and shield ready.

The farmer’s relief was short-lived. Seeing a guard in armor, the thief quickly grabbed the villager and put his knife to his throat. “Drop the sword, now!” the rogue yelled.

“Let him go, you can’t run away from me,” Tyr’eshal said.

“A boy wearing heavy armor saying he can chase me and keep up? I think you are bluffing. Drop the sword or he dies!”

If that’s how he wants it… Instead of just dropping on the path, he threw his sword and shield into the shrubs to make sure they are out of reach if the thief had the idea of stealing those as well. Then, Tyr’eshal raised his hands for him to see they are empty.

“Now turn around and walk away,” the rogue said.

“I don’t think I can do that,” Tyr’eshal said calmly.

“What?”

Before the thief could make sense of it, Tyr’eshal vanished. He teleported right behind the thief and twisted his wrist, forcing him to drop the knife. As it hit the ground, he pushed the villager forward with his other hand. The scratches the villager suffered from the fall were a small hindrance compared to the fact that he was now safely out of reach. Tyr’eshal threw the rogue against one of the trees, knocking him out.

He helped the shocked villager to his feet. “I am sorry about that, but I wanted to be sure you were out of his reach.” The villager seemed to calm down even if he was still in shock.

“Thank you, I don’t know what I would do if you were not here,” The villager said.

Meanwhile, Tyr’eshal picked up the villager’s pouch and held his hand above it. Feeling no kind of magic, he opened the pouch.

“What I told him was true. Flower seeds,” the villager said.

Tyr’eshal returned the pouch. “You are free to go. But I will need you to visit the guardhouse soon so they can make a report.”

The villager eyed the man who ambushed him. “What about him?”

“I will take care of him, you can be sure he’ll sleep in a cell tonight.” Tyr’eshal watched the villager leave. Then, he went to pick up his sword and shield, sheathing the sword and putting the shield into the harness on his back. He woke the rogue up by pouring some water from his flask on his face. Not giving him a moment to react, he dragged the would-be thief down the road to Darkpine.