Expedition

Expedition

  By Kevin Winters

  Copyright 2014 Kevin Winters

  Lennendell was in an uproarious mood on this day. Hundreds of festivals to the goddess Althera decorated the land as people celebrated life, but none were as joyous or as grand as the one held in Lennendell. Game and food stalls lined every street and eager citizens bustled about between them. Pockets of people covered street corners as they chattered away and the silver bells atop the grand Lennendell Church brought joy as they marked the start of the afternoon.

  Rowen Skylance sat next to his family's wine stand while his father fetched more stock. He wore the robes of a novice mage, plain white save for bands of fire around the cuffs and hem and a triangular-cut ruby shrouded in fire on the breast.

  As he sat, he toyed with magical fire in his hands. With the use of only his mind and subtle finger movements, he changed its shape, size, color, and intensity. He hoped any patrons who sought his father's wine would see the “out on business” sign on the table and not disturb him for his thoughts were stuck on his graduation test next week.

  An old man with thin, gray hair and a long gray beard walked up to Rowen and his family's stand.

  “Good afternoon, boy!” he called to Rowen. “Still fretting over the upcoming final?” Rowen looked up at the source of the disturbance.

  “Uncle Parker!” he replied, smiling. “You finally made it into town. Welcome! And to answer your question: yes, I am fretting over finals,” Rowen’s smile faded. “What if I don't pass? I can’t let down the family line; I can’t disappoint father and be the first in the family to fail the military exam in almost seven generations. Can you imagine if I had to tell him I was heading to college instead? He always tells me that a Skylance can’t earn fame in college.”

  Uncle Parker waved his hands before him. “Settle down, boy, you're speaking nonsense. You're a Skylance, and a fine one at that! No one in the family has ever failed their studies in either magic or martial prowess,” Uncle Parker said, clasping Rowen on the shoulders. “Why, your father's even said he's heard talk about old Fussy Beard passing you without having you take the darn thing! And don’t even get me started on how well Kohel did. You remember what everyone always said about you two when you were little don’t you?” Rowen nodded. “Right, they always said you two were practically twins, and look at what he’s accomplished. Like it or not boy the goddess has you destined for greatness!” Uncle Parker held his arms out wide. Rowen dismissed his magical fire and embraced his uncle. Parker ruffled his fire-red hair with his old but strong hand.

  Uncle Parker pulled away from the embrace. “So where's that no-good younger brother of mine?” Rowen smiled at his uncle's constant teasing of his father.

  “He ran down to the warehouse for more Firewine. We can't keep it on the shelves.”

  “Well that's good news! Now listen, if I'm not back before your father let him know I stopped by would you? I'm going to go visit your mother and sister at the shop,” Parker said, taking one more look at Rowen. “And stop fretting over the exam; you've got nothing to worry about.”

  “Thanks uncle. I'll tell father you stopped by.” Rowen sat back down and conjured up another flame.

  Uncle Parker shook his head as he walked away.

  Several minutes passed while Rowen idly manipulated his magic, his mind fixed on his exam. Passing was only half the worry, he had to make a big decision if he did. The military exam was rather simple for potential graduates of either martial or arcane arts. The students would accompany the army on one of their excursions into the wilds to thin the local monster population. If one proved their worth on the expeditions and was a valuable asset to the company, they passed and were allowed to join the local militia, who defended a town from monsters, the Lennendell army, who were currently fighting Brezzen to the north, or Althera's Vanguard, who traveled all over fighting demons.

  The Skylances, Rowen’s family, were well known in Lennendell and even in some parts of Gaia for their long line of military service. Many Skylances were pivotal in the shaping of the country, and in many parts of the world. Rowen’s brother Kohel, who had graduated five years earlier, was now the second in command of Althera’s Vanguard.

  A larger than normal number of potential graduates intended to stay local and enlist with the militia. Rowen’s friends among them urged him to as well. Rowen, however, could not see himself in the militia. There were no adventures to be had if he sat at home and waited for something to happen.

  If Rowen joined Althera’s Vanguard he would get to travel the entire world. Every country across Gaia treated the Vanguard with the utmost respect and provided them with the best accommodations. Enlistment in Althera’s Vanguard meant that Rowen would get to meet Kohel again, and it was almost unheard of for someone in direct service to the goddess to see their family again.

  These facts coupled with the fact that Rowen would much rather fight demons and monsters than other humans seemed to make Althera's Vanguard the obvious choice, but that left out the biggest downside that any of his options had, and the prime reason the Vanguard’s size was so low. Demons and monsters, but particularly demons, were very fierce and powerful foes. The life expectancy of a soldier in the service to Althera was barely over a decade, with only a handful of the several hundred members able to claim fifteen years of service.

  Rowen’s head was wracked with thoughts as he struggled with the decision.

  Before he could contemplate further however, Rowen was pulled from his thoughts by a familiar voice calling his name. The young mage looked up to see his childhood friend, Cecilia.

  “Still worried about next week’s exam?” she asked, her green eyes shining through her golden bangs. She wore a simple brown tunic above her skirt and boots, both brown as well. Rowen almost didn’t recognize her without her acolyte robes on. “What’s it going to take to convince you once and for all to join the Vanguard with me? You’ll get to meet Kohel again!”

  “I don't know, Cecilia. How can you so readily join such a dangerous mission?” Rowen asked as he dismissed his toy flames and stared into his empty hands. “Aren't you afraid of dying?”

  “The only death I fear is one that ends a life unfulfilled,” Cecilia said. “One of boredom and worry. You know all I want is a life of adventure, doesn't matter how short it is.” Cecilia lifted Rowen's head by the chin so she could look him in the eyes and say: “Now cheer up! It's the festival of Althera and we graduate next week, both are very happy events, so be happy.”

  Rowen stood up and said: “Yeah, you're right. I’ll put off the thoughts until after we enjoy the festivities. Though I fear we'll have to wait for my father to g-”

  “I'm back, Rowen,” Rowen's stout father said as he pulled up with a loaded cart of Firewine. “You can go enjoy the festivities. Right after you help me unload these, of course,” he said as he gave Rowen a wink with his good eye.

  “Yes, father,” Rowen said. He grabbed a crate of bottles and set it next to the empty ones behind the stall. “Uncle Parker arrived in town not half a bell ago, he told me to let you know before he went off to see Mom and Kyrie.”

  “Ah good, I was expecting him later, but now he can help with the stall when he gets here,” Rowen's father said as he grunted and grabbed a stack of crates.

  “Uncle Parker's in town?” Cecilia asked. “I wish I hadn't missed him, it's been far too long since I last saw him.” She snuck a bottle of Firewine from a crate and slipped it into her satchel, winking at Rowen. The young mage fought back a laugh and feigned a forgotten appointment that needed keeping then ran off with Cecilia as his father called out to him.

  They spent the afternoon at the many stalls where they played games and tasted sweets and treats. Grem from down the street had a stall of fried dou
gh, soaked in honey and topped with powdered sugar which Rowen professed the best batch the old man had ever made. Old Miss Strelstrom from Toum ran a stall with delicious raspberry and blueberry strudels which Cecilia readily devoured. After they visited all the stalls they wanted to, they stole away to the roof of Lorel, the blacksmith, where they drank the wine together. It was a fiery, spiced fine that made them cough and wonder just how it was so popular. Afterwards they went to Rowen’s for the traditional feast day meal of roast duck, oven baked potatoes, beans, corn, beets, and of course, more sweets. After supper Cecilia returned to the town abbey where all the acolytes stayed and Rowen bid his family goodnight and went up to his room to practice his spells.

  Alone in his room, Rowen locked door and enacted a minor cantrip to