542 words (2 minute read)

1.4 Eamon

Eamon turned back just in time to see the last glimpse of Calaera disappear behind the bend. The white city, more like a temple than a castle, was so far tucked away into the forest that few who ever went searching for it ever found it. So it was that the life mages kept their solitude. The wall-less, columned buildings with their sandy walkways housed an overwhelming number of the population of life mages.

Eamon’s pack mule began to slow, and he tugged its rope. Glancing over his shoulder, he knew that it was stubborn, not tired. The two saddle bags it carried were full more of books than food or clothing. Taking books from the white city was forbidden, of course, but there was no real rule against making hand copies. If they had known, he was sure the elders would have stopped him from leaving with them. The whites, more than anyone, except perhaps the purples, had secrets amongst themselves that would be devastating in the wrong hands.

Eamon was dressed in the white tunic and brown sash of the whites of Calaera, feet bound in brown sandals. These, of course, would all need to be replaced. He didn’t know what the other aligns wore, but he knew he would stick out like a sore thumb with his white robe and shaved head.

It was not common for whites to leave the safety of their forest haven. The demand was great throughout Reist for healers, and it was not uncommon for one to hear rumors of one being abducted or sold for a profit to a rich man as a personal physician or food tester. Eamon wasn’t sure how much of the rumors held a drop of truth; the Marshals were there to make sure things like that didn’t happen.

Eamon rode in silence the rest of the morning. When one of his mules, the blasted packer that he kept in tow, landed his foot in a hole and sprained a muscle, Eamon used his magyk to take it away. Having the little black pouch at his side, like an extension of himself outside his body, was a comfort to him.

Coming close to dark, he came upon a trail well-worn, a real road through the forest. Eamon didn’t think for a moment about which way to go. Unlike those before him, his desire to leave Calaera was for selfish reasons. While they sought to help others, he simply wished to see the world. He turned left onto the road, heading south.

South of him were the purples and the reds, and the mage city of Brahna. Only the greens lived in the desert to the north, while the yellows lived on their plateau on the west overlooking the plains. The water mages lived in their odd floating city on the lake to the east. Eamon didn’t really have anywhere he intended to go except where his feet took him.

Ahead, he could hear the faint clop-clop-clopping of some animal on the path, and through the dimming light if he strained his eyes, he could just make out two riders coming towards him. Whether friend or foe, he could only guess.

Next Chapter: 1.5 Hanlan