The Gods Square, Chapter 1

As he stood, looking out the window onto the scenery surrounding his secluded home, Balion felt foreboding creeping up on him. He wondered, as he often did, were there acts of impulsion that lead to goals hidden in the subconscious? If in some way one could work to an outcome that is presently unknown. It’s said the Gods work through man himself, more-so the Gifted. If that is true, then who, in the end, is responsible for the actions of man? What is the right thing to do when faced with challenge and difficulty, should one do as he can, all that he can? Or should he, knowing that his acts in the end could only add to the fount of distrust that cocoons him, decide not to act? Would he then be wrong for declining his possible help, or would it be an act of the gods?
Balion shook himself out of his pointless revere, he didn’t believe in the Gods, he made and chose his own actions.
“Come, lets go.” Said Balion to his friend, reaching over the chair for his cloak. “If we’re lucky we should make it to the village by sunrise.”
Michal stretched his arms and looked down sadly on the now empty bowl. He sighed as he got to his feet.
“You know how much I hate having to move after eating,” said the wiry blonde young man. “Its not good for me.”
The night passed in a blur of shadows as the two young men made their way in the dark, both constantly gripped their cloaks as wind rippled through the large oaks surrounding them, trying in vain to relieve them of the small comfort of keeping warm.
Balion was thankful of the moon, which was near to full and giving of enough light for them to be able to make there way along the twisted turns and unsteady ground of the forest floor. It was a pity Michal didn’t take more care to note where he put his feet. Throughout the night his blond headed friend would trip, which would quickly be followed by loud curse, then trip again.
“Move over to the left, you will trip less.” Said Balion after his friend had finished his latest tirade.
The dark couldn’t hide the glare Michal shot him when he got to his feet.
“And how will that bloody help? Are there less holes on that side?”
“No,” said Balion over his shoulder as he turned and carried on. “But you will be able to see the holes a little better on this side. The moons over there,” He pointed off to his right. “It might not seem it, but the light given off is stopped mostly by the trees on the right side of the trail. The left is a little brighter.”
Michal looked incredulous, “It all looks the bloody same! I’m gonna end up with a broken neck long before we reach the village.”
Balion was more worried about getting to the village than his friends complaining, it wasn’t like he had asked Michal to come out and get him, his night would have been a lot more pleasant had he not.
Balion admonished himself for being unfair. His friend was only doing what was asked of him. It wasn’t Michal who wanted Balion at the village. Actually, Balion didn’t know who it was that wanted him. But they came with a letter from his grandfather, which meant only one thing. Trouble.
He had warned his granddad, before he left on his journey to Rallion, that he felt unease at the summons to the Hall. Maybe he was hoping at the time his granddad would tell him it was a foolish worry, The Four knew he thought it was a foolish worry himself. But his granddads only reply was “These are dark times. There are changes coming, we must be ready.” and what that meant he had no idea.
Balion shrugged. “Do what you want, but I’m telling you, the left is easier to negotiate. Do you see me tripping over every other minute?”
Michal looked at his friends back with a scowl, then moved over to the left, deciding the broad shouldered young man with flowing black hair might have a point.
Through the night Michal seemed to become more sure footed. He didn’t admit to Balion that he was in fact correct. There was a little more light on the left, not much at first, but after a time it was enough to prevent the untimely slips that were so annoying. It was the difference between shades of black, Michal had come to recognise the darker the shade the more likely-hood of a hole.
If his mind hadn’t been so preoccupied with the worry of what would happen when he reached the village, Balion would have took pleasure in seeing his friend learn something new. It wasn’t easy trying to teach Michal.
After covering most of the distance in the suffocating black of night, the sky was gradually easing into a lighter shade of blue as a tired Balion, and a near collapsing Michal, came into view of the stout wooden settlement of the village.
Built in a semi circle at the bottom of a rock face, the village was in a perfect spot to weather the yearly winters and forcing gales. It was also the most defensible position in miles, with a strong wooden wall encasing the village against the rock. It was said in the book of “Amoran” that it was a number of village’s similar to this that were the backbone supporting the invasion of the “50 Year War”. Balion remembered the account that spoke about the betrayal, it was an interesting counterpoint to well known history.
Balion looked across at his friends drawn face, black circles outlined bright blue eyes and long lashes, he had almost feminine features.
“You don’t look well, I think you should go get some sleep.”
Michal gave a tired sigh.
“After, lets go to Jerry’s first.”
Since there was no need for vigilance in the last five hundred years, Balion and Michal entered the village of Blueban through the open and unguarded gate. The villagers agreed they had better things to do than to stand watch against the invisible shades of their fallen enemy.
Balion steeled himself as he headed for the inn, putting in place the mask which was his usual countenance among the people of Blueban, a calm indifference which was his armour against the searching looks and furtive glances. He knew it was only natural for people to be weary of something they didn’t understand, even afraid. Maybe they had the right to be afraid of someone who could, with nothing but a thought, end their lives. It made little difference that he could also help. The natural instinct to threat was common to all, survival was valued above all else.
There was a small positive though, and that was the time of day. At least this early in the morning it wasn’t likely he would run into too many people. Hopefully, he would not be here long.
With Michal at his side Balion felt grateful to his friend. He was the only one in the village who hadn’t treated Balion as an outsider as he had grown up among the other children of Blueban. While he no doubt had his faults, Michal was a good and loyal friend.
When they reached the Inn, Michal pushed forwards and the door swung open, roasted meats and ale assorted their senses with a pleasant sample of warmth, leading Balion to realise that he was seriously hungry.
The room was all but empty, a lone man sat at one of the tables closest to the bar, he was ragged and taut, arms rippled with sinew and muscle were clearly visible through a sleeveless vest. As the stranger stood, his sword resting lightly against his thigh, he waited until Balion and Michal made their way over.
A face of sharp angles and close cropped hair only added to the mans unusual appearance. Balion noted that he carried himself with deadly purpose, every move precise and efficient. It struck him as almost fact, this man was a warrior.
“My name is Xzen, I am of the Karu-ni.” He spoke in an unfamiliar accent, and to Balion alone.
Balion returned the appraising glance which was directed his way, then, not fully knowing why, introduced himself in a similar fashion.
“My name is Balion, I am Gifted.”
Balion stood still as Xzen cocked his head to the side in thought, finally the stranger inclined his head.
“Hard to have the Gift. Not many understand.” He held out a calloused hand for Balion. “I understand,” said the outlander, a hard glint to his eyes
The offered hand was to Balion such a simple, and yet as profound an act he had witnessed in many years. It seemed in that hand was simple recognition of how life was for one like him.
How he could understand when he didn’t have the Gift himself was puzzling, but Balion could see in the mans eyes that he did.
Standing a head taller, crow black hair and eyes that were so black they seemed almost to glow, Balion leaned forward and clasped the mans hand.
“You have a letter from my grandfather?” he inquired.
Xzen’s eyes turned deadly serious as he gave a tight nod. From the inside of a bear fur cloak which rested over a nearby stool, the man retrieved a small pouch.
“Your grandfather said you would know how to open this.”
Balion sent out his senses, just a miniscule touch was enough to confirm his granddads trace of gift on the small pouch.
“I do,” said Balion as he received the small pouch.
It was a simple matter, something he and his granddad had long ago practised. It was a shield set to a person, rather than a shield of working. With this particular shield, there was no way for another who was not the intended recipient to pass and leave the contents intact.
His granddads use of this particular shield worried Balion immeasurably. While his granddad was often at the Hall these days, Balion had noticed him becoming more and more withdrawn. Like a great burden was resting on him. One Balion had tried in vain to understand.
Balion emptied the pouches contents into his hand. A ring, a key, and a note.
He read the note.1

Balion, m’boy.
You are in danger. Now listen to me closely. The man who bears this message is Xzen of the Karu-ni. You will know it is him by the missing finger on his left hand.2

Balion glanced over the note. There was indeed a finger missing from the strangers hand. The smallest finger on his left. He read on as his heart raced.3

You must leave Blueban now! Go with Xzen to the city of Allution, on the Parroway crossing. Xzen knows where it is. There you must take the key to an old friend of mine who works in one of the counting houses on the docks. A building called “Omeny”
Be VERY CAREFUL with what you receive there, guard it with your life!
Once you have done that, make your way to the Hall. Speak to A meister called Ludo, he will bring you to me.
M’boy, I’m sorry for being so circumspect, but you know I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t important.
See you when I see you.4

Julian, meister of the Hall.5

Balion was silent a moment while he digested what he had just read. He wasn’t entirely sure his eyes were reading it right. His grandfather wanted him to go to the Hall! He had always forbade Balion any contact with the Hall and its other Gifted! What was so different now? And what was it he had to retrieve from Allution?
“What’s wrong Balion?” Asked Michal, concerned.
There were any number of conflicting emotions plaguing him at that point. Worry over his granddads unnerving letter. Anger at having now, after years of trying to persuade his grandfather to let him travel to the Hall, being told to go there on some grounds through which he knew nothing about. And, if he was honest with himself, a little excitement. He had never been allowed to leave Blueban before, not even with his grandfather.
“I don’t know,” said Balion honestly. “Something’s not right. My granddad wants me to leave.”
Michal’s head came up, a startled deer. “Leave, what do you mean leave? Where you going to go?”
Instead of explaining, Balion handed his friend the letter. He didn’t miss the raised eye brows sporting Xzen’s face as he watched the exchange.
“Damn, whatever it is can’t be any good.” said Michal as he folded up the letter and handed it back to Balion. “But ill be damned if I let you go alone, I’m coming too.”
Xzen shook his head.
“No, I was told to bring only Balion, no one else. And that is how it will be.”
Michal’s eyes sparked at the open challenge, and while Balion was in no doubt about his friends fighting capabilities, he guessed this one step too many.
“If he wants to come, then he can.” Said Balion to Xzen. End of discussion.
The warriors face hadn’t changed during there short meeting, he seemed calm, and relaxed. He gave a small shrug of his shoulders. Whether it was agreement or not, Balion wasn’t sure.
“Are you sure you want to come?” Asked Balion.
Michal gave a noncommittal shrug. “Its got to be better than staying around here. I’ve always wanted to travel.” The last was said with a lopsided grin.
Xzen shook his head but kept quiet. Balion still wasn’t convinced.
“What about your apprentiship?”
Michal waved it away. “Boring. Fix this, fix that. Do this, do that. I’ve had enough of being told what to do. And anyway, its not like I don’t have other talents.”
Balion couldn’t help but smile at his friends reference to his “other talents” A secret shared only between the two friends. Michal had the uncanny ability to turn himself, and anything he touched, invisible. Coupled together with his devious and tricky mind, Michal did indeed have other talents.
“Ok,” said Balion to Xzen. “When do we leave?”
Without turning, Xzen reached down for his cloak and swung it over his shoulders.
“Now. We have time to make it to Easterely before sunset. The quicker we are from this place, the better.”
Balion held up his hands. “Wait. We have already been on the road this past night, and you want us to travel the whole of this day? No thanks. We need at least a couple of hours rest.”
Michal looked relieved at Balion’s intervention.
Xzen’s jaw was clenched as he answered.
“No! we leave now. It is not safe to stay here. Do you understand? You think I would come all this way if it were not serious? We need to leave, now.”
Balion got the distinct impression the man knew a lot more about this than he had so far said. He also got the impression that Xzen was deadly serious. He almost looked ready to tie Balion to a horse and take him against his will, if it came to that.
Balion tiled his head to one side as he thought things through. His granddad would not have sealed the pouch the way he had done for nothing, there must have been a reason for that. The almost cryptic message was also another signalling factor that pointed to ill omens. As Balion pieced together what he so far knew, he gradually came round to the possibility that maybe Xzen was right. He also wondered, with a sinking feeling, what was going on.
“Ok. We leave now. But,” said Balion as Xzen turned to go. “I want to know what’s going on. Or at the least what you know of what’s happening.” Beside him Michal groaned. Xzen was still for a moment before he answered.
“When we reach Easterely, I will tell you what I know.”
“All of it,” it was not a question.
Xzen inclined his head. “Yes.” The warrior looked up out the window. “Now we must leave, while its still early.”
The two friends followed their new companion out of the inn, and round the back to the stable. Inside awaited three fresh mounts, tack, food and supplies, and blankets.
“I thought you said you where sent for only me?” said Balion with raised eyebrows.
Xzen smiled, a predators’ smile. “Your granddad seemed to think that your friend there…
“Michal,” Interrupted Michal.
“Might tag along for the ride,” Carried on Xzen, not seeming to notice the interruption. “So I took precautions. It is always good to be ready for unexpected turns of events.”
Balion nodded. Refraining from saying that if his granddad had already told him Michal would likely come along, then it was hardly unexpected .
Both Balion and Michal sat their horses well. And while Xzen looked decidedly more comfortable than the two young men from the Village of Blueban, they both seemed to the casual observer to be competent horsemen.
Just as the sun was starting to pass the trees, sending out rays of resplendent light which illuminated the surrounding forests, the three of them made their way for the road. Passing through an unguarded gate.