The Fire Within (solo fic)

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Owen
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Joined: January 4th, 2019, 11:49 pm

The Fire Within (solo fic)

Post by Owen » January 14th, 2019, 5:30 pm

Spoiler: show
This story includes a relationship between two men. If that is something you are uncomfortable with, then please do not read. You have been warned. Thank you!
The Fire Within Jun sniffled through his tears as his father dabbed gently at the cut on his cheek with a wet rag. At eight years old, he was too old to be crying in public like a baby, and so he had held it in until he went back to his father’s wagon. Then he had finally allowed himself to cry. He wasn’t crying from pain or fear. No, he was angry, so angry that he could hardly speak, stumbling over his words as he told his father what had happened.

“I j-just wanted to sit next to the fire while Mahdi was telling us stories, b-but then Gilly came and wanted me to move. And… and w-we argued and then he pushed me and I pushed him back so he fell down. Then he got up and pushed me really hard and I g-got so mad that I… I think I broke his nose. It was bleeding a lot… but I just kept hitting him and hitting him. I couldn’t stop.”

Jun swallowed and snuck a peek at his father. From the furrow between his father’s eyes, he knew that his father was upset. He sat in silence for a few long seconds, letting his tears dry and his hiccups fade. Eventually he gathered enough courage to speak.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked.

“No, I’m not,” his father said. “I’m worried about you. You could have been really hurt. Gilly is a lot bigger than you.”

Jun watched as his father moved around the inside of their wagon, rinsing out the bloody rag in the water they used for washing. And though he was still a child, he knew that there was something more. There was definite tension in his father’s movements, and the worry had not left his father’s face. On the surface, this wasn’t any different than the countless times that Jun had fought with other children and returned with cuts and bruises. Yet something seemed different.

“Papa? There’s something else, isn’t there?”

His father didn’t reply immediately. When he did, his tone was serious.

“Listen, son. I don’t want you to worry. But I think you should know, because it’s about you. First, I want you to remember that, whatever happens, I’ll take care of you, alright?”

Jun nodded, and his father sighed.

“I know this has been going on for a long time. But these fights, well, some of the other children cause trouble too, but it seems like you’re always the one caught in middle. Mahdi told me that if this happens again then he will have to ask us to leave.”

Jun stared at his father in horror as he struggled to wrap his mind around what his father had just said.

“Leave? Where would we go?”

“I don’t know,” his father said, wearily. “But I promise that we’ll figure it out.”

Jun couldn’t help but to protest.

“That’s not fair! Gilly pushed me first. He is always picking on me and I hate it! I just want him to stop and I tell him to stop but he won’t!”

“There is never an excuse for violence,” his father said, gently. “Not ever. We are Tuatha’an, and we must follow the Way of the Leaf. A leaf does not struggle against the wind. A leaf does no harm and -”

“- falls to the earth to nourish new leaves,” Jun finished impatiently. “But what do I do if somebody bullies me again?”

“Then you need to walk away and come to me. We don’t have another chance. Light knows that Mahdi’s already given us plenty.”

Jun looked at his father, who had thick, wavy brown hair streaked with grey, and ruddy, sun-weathered features, and eyes as blue as the sky. Though Jun was only eight years old, he knew that he looked nothing like his father; and from the taunts of other children and the whispers that floated from other fires around their camp, he knew what that meant. But he didn’t care. As far as he was concerned, this man was his father despite what anybody said, and if he needed to swallow his pride and take a few bruises and smile and offer the other cheek, then he would do it. He still felt the rage burning low in his belly, screaming at the unfairness of it all, threatening to send him into mindless destruction, but he grit his teeth and bore it. He would need to control himself so that they could stay.

Right then and there, Jun vowed to himself that he would never let his temper get the best of him again. This was their home. Leaving was unimaginable.

“I understand, Papa.”


Over the years, Jun found ways to keep himself grounded and steady, solid enough to not fly apart into pieces, despite the rage that simmered under his skin.

He woke up early every morning to run, noticing that exercise dampened his rage. He also filled his time with as many distractions as he could, running errands for his neighbors, browsing through Mahdi’s worn books, or helping the women watch the youngest children and dogs. When the Tuatha’an camped near a village, he worked with his father to mend their tools or pick up odd jobs. In the evenings, he gathered around the campfires with the other members in his band to dance and sing.

He learned to ignore his bullies; and eventually, most of them lost interest in him. All except for Gilly. Jun thought that perhaps the other boy held him responsible for his crooked nose, which never healed properly. He felt badly about it and avoided Gilly as much as possible.

Sometimes when his anger threatened to overwhelm him, he would find his father, who could calm him when nothing else could. Other times, he secluded himself in his father’s wagon and would just breathe through the anger, breathe through the pain, and hold it at bay through mere willpower.

All these things kept him steady enough to maintain complete control. His fellow Tuatha’an thought of him as remarkably calm and collected, seemingly the model young Tinker. Even Mahdi praised him, especially after Jun won the racing games at the Gathering, an annual event during which dozens of Tuatha’an camps met to celebrate the summer solstice.

“He’s one of ours,” Mahdi had boasted to the other Tuatha’an leaders present at the Gathering. “You wouldn’t believe it now, but he was a terrifying child, as vicious and quick as a wild rabbit. Some children find it hard to follow the Way, and he found it harder than most. He bit me on my arm once, when I had to grab him after he attacked another child. See, there, still have the scar. Now look at him! What a fine young man he’s turned out to be!”

Jun had only ducked his head in embarrassment, excused himself, and tried to evade the attentions of the young women - and some men - who seemed to appear out of thin air whenever he walked too near a camp that was not his own. They watched him with gazes that were far too predatory for his comfort.

No one knew of the fire that raged within. Jun didn’t let them know.


Sometimes when he lay in his bed, alone and looking up at the ceiling of his father’s wagon, he would wonder. What if he let it go, just one slip, one crack? Would it bring relief?

But Jun never allowed himself to think about it too much. It made him afraid.


It was his nineteenth winter. Everyone was saying that it was the coldest winter anyone had remembered in years. The Dark One’s touch, they whispered. When the snow grew too thick for travel, the Tuatha’an camped close to a friendly village. Which meant that the villagers just barely tolerated them, mostly because some of the Tuatha’an men had been hired to help the villagers replace any thatching on their homes that had fallen in from the heavier-than-usual snowfall. Jun helped, too, and woke up early most mornings to shovel the village paths clear of snow in exchange for a few coppers from the mayor. But besides those few hours of work, there was mostly nothing to do.

Perhaps that was why Jun felt restless. The rage shifted under his skin, crawling within him like a living creature, gnashing its teeth and threatening to break loose. It was constant, uncomfortable, and disquieting. Despite the frigid temperatures outside, Jun was burning up inside.

Then on the third morning of camp, Jun went to the mayor’s house for his coppers - and instead of the mayor, his son opened the door. All it took was one glance, and Jun felt all the heat within him melt and dissolve into a different kind of warmth. He was beautiful, tall and slim, with wide, grey eyes, ash-blond hair, and had a smile that rivaled the sun.

“I’m Anset,” he said, and his voice was so husky and deep, that Jun actually swayed on his feet a bit. “You must be the Tuatha’an boy that my father mentioned.”

“R-right. I’m here for the -”

“Payment. Yes. Here.” Anset handed the money to Jun.

When their fingers brushed, his body sang.


One of the Tuatha’an women, Fayne, invited some of the villagers to join in their midwinter celebration. The People brought out their instruments, fiddles and flutes, pipes and drums, and sang songs around several dozen campfires. Girls danced the tiganza, shuffling slowly to the beat of the drums, the tassels of their shawls swaying. While usually Jun enjoyed watching, his attention was entirely captured by the man who sat next to him, leg pressed not-so-subtly against his.

Fayne had requested for Jun to join the singers, which he had happily accepted, but that night he cursed his luck. It was hard to breathe properly, knowing that Anset was watching him. With every shift of Anset’s leg, he felt his voice tremble. At the song’s end, Jun couldn’t help it and asked, haltingly, with an embarrassed flush creeping up his neck.

“Um. Anset, right? Could you maybe not stare at me so much? It’s distracting.”

Anset nodded. “Ah. Of course.”

Light, his voice was so warm and mellow that Jun melted a little more inside. His eyes were sparkling in the firelight, glittering with amusement as if he knew exactly what Jun was thinking, and honestly Jun wanted to dig a hole in the snow and bury himself in it, because this was unbearable.

“I’m also going to need you to not talk,” he said. Then Anset’s leg touched his again and Jun breathed in sharply. “Or move. Just…”

“Would you like for me to go?”

“No!” Jun yelped. “Stay, please. Just don’t move. Or talk. Or stare.”

Anset drummed his fingers against his thigh and pursed his lips a little. He leaned forward and said, so quietly that Jun almost couldn’t hear it, “Am I allowed to breathe?”

Somehow, that one question lifted some of the weight pressing down on Jun’s chest, and he laughed a little. “I don’t know,” he said, grinning. “Maybe not.”

Anset watched him sing for the rest of the night. And at the end of it, he whispered in Jun’s ear.

“Come with me? I know a place.”

He lead Jun into an abandoned cabin at the edge of the village. It had been years since its walls had been caulked and sealed, and the wind cut through the gaping holes between the logs. But neither of them cared. They found warmth with each other.


When Jun was six years old, he fell in love with a boy. They were at the summer Gathering, and Jun had been placed with a group of other similarly-aged children. He didn’t remember the details, but he remembered the feelings, the vague impressions of happiness when the boy held his hand. The flutters of his heart when he had handpicked a bouquet of wildflowers and shyly presented them. And then the boy - his name also lost in the haze of childhood - had taken the flowers, smiled, and pressed a chaste kiss to Jun’s cheek. They spent the summer playing together, chasing each other in an endless game of tag among the campfires, and the adults cooed and awed over how adorable it was for the two young boys to be such close friends.

Then one evening, a group of older, bigger children came and began making fun of them. The boy remained silent and looked as if he were about to cry, but Jun became furious.

“Leave him alone!” he yelled. “Pick on someone your own size!”

“Who? You? You’re as tiny as a bean and scrawnier than a rabbit. Haha, look at those teeth, you are a rabbit! Rabbit, rabbit! Hop for us, Rabbit!”

“You’re nothing but a bunch of bullies. And cowards,” Jun spat.

“You wanna say that again, Rabbit?”

“You’re bullies. And I’m not afraid of you.”

The boys went for him and Jun stood firm, fists swinging. He earned his first black eye that day. But he also learned something important. Fear was a cage with chains and locks and Jun learned that those children, those bullies, they had a lot more to fear than he did.

What he didn’t realize was that the boy, his friend, was also afraid. And that fear could be stronger than love, no matter how pure. While Jun fought, the boy ran away and hid. When the adults came and the other children pointed fingers at Jun, the boy was nowhere to be seen. The next day, the summer Gathering ended and Jun never saw him again.

The boy had been trapped by his fear.

Later, Jun learned, so was Anset.


Jun rolled over lazily in the blankets, comfortable in the haze of afterglow. After the first night - and the second, and third night - they had finally decided that it was just too cold to spend time there without at least some form of bedding. It had taken several trips for them, shrouded by the darkness of night, to smuggle in the blankets and pillows to cover the cabin floor. He glanced over to his side and hesitated when he saw Anset laying beside him, hands folded behind his head, gazing up at the ceiling with a shuttered, empty look that Jun had come to dread.

“We really need to stop,” Anset said.

Jun propped himself up on an elbow. He never knew what to do when the other man got in one of these moods. Gently, he ran his fingers through his lover’s ash-blond hair.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” Anset continued. “It can’t. We both know that this can’t go on.”

Jun understood. They’d had this same discussion many times and always circled around to the same conclusion. When winter ended, Jun would leave with the Tuatha’an, while Anset would stay with his father. Jun had accepted it as unfortunate, but necessary. Some things, like the changing of seasons, were meant to be temporary. But Anset seemed to struggle, becoming melancholic and depressed whenever he thought of the coming spring. Jun shifted closer to wrap his arms around his lover, pressed his face into the crook of his neck, and breathed in the soft scent of his skin.

They remained quiet. Anset was so still that Jun thought that perhaps he had fallen asleep. Then just as the golden rays of the sun began to peek through the gaps in the cabin’s walls, Anset stirred.

“My father has always had certain expectations for me,” he said. “Grow up. Find a wife. Have a half-dozen kids. Become his successor. I never wanted any of it. But then my mother died and he… he doesn’t have anyone else. It was bad when my mom died. Really, really bad. I thought, I almost thought that I was going to lose him, too. If I left, I think it would kill him. And if you stayed, I think he would kill you.”

Jun shot him a startled glance.

“My father isn’t a tolerant man,” Anset said, bitterness lacing through his words. “I’m surprised that he had even let your People camp nearby. Though I’m glad he did. You’re one of the best things that has ever happened to me.”

“I know,” Jun said softly, and then he winked. Anset smiled briefly, and then became serious again.

“Promise me. No one can know about us.”

Jun nodded.

“I promise,” he said.


They thought they had been careful, but Jun had underestimated Gilly’s grudge. When Gilly realized that his favorite target was disappearing for several hours each day, it didn’t take him long to figure out what was going on.

Jun had Anset pinned up against the wall when the door suddenly flew open, letting in a blast of freezing wind. They sprang apart - thankfully they still had their clothes on - and then Anset slipped on the edge of a blanket and tumbled to the floor. Jun spun on his heel and saw Gilly standing there, mouth twisted with malice and expression triumphant.

“I knew it,” he said. “I knew that there was something going on with you. Freak.”

“It is not wrong,” Jun said quietly. “To like men.”

“It is unnatural, that’s what it is,” Gilly hissed. “Everyone thinks you’re such a Light-touched golden boy. But I knew better. I’ve always known better. I’m gonna let everyone know that Jun Valdera is a flamin’ dirty poof!”

If it had been only been his secret, then Jun would have laughed in Gilly’s face and told him to tell whoever he liked. Because Gilly was wrong, and Jun was comfortable with his masculinity and liked women as much as he liked men; and anyway, he didn’t feel a need to define his sexuality to anyone, much less someone as small-minded as his childhood bully. But behind him, he heard Anset make a muffled noise of protest. And he knew that he could not allow Gilly to ruin him, to destroy that smile which shone brighter than the sun.

“Who’s that, anyway?” Gilly asked, and he craned his neck to peer behind Jun.

Jun had not felt even a remnant of his anger in weeks, and so it took him by surprise when the rage suddenly roared back to life and his stomach twisted with pain. Before he was fully aware of what he was doing, he darted forward and crowded Gilly toward the open door.

“Get out,” he said, lowly. His hands trembled.

Instead of fear, Gilly’s face lit up with a strange, wild joy. Jun felt his heart sink, as he realized that he had given the bully exactly what he wanted: a reaction. Gilly laughed and said, “Why should I listen to you?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Jun said.

Gilly scoffed. “You think I’m afraid of you?”

He should be, the rage cackled. You can make him fear you.

A new voice spoke up from just outside the door. “Gilly? Jun? What’s going on?”

It was Fayne. She was looking at them, wide-eyed with confusion, and in that moment, Gilly peeked over Jun’s shoulder and snickered, “Oh, I see. Light, is that the mayor’s son?”

Jun stepped again towards him, and then managed to stop and brace himself against the cabin frame. A leaf does not struggle against the wind, he repeated to himself, fighting to remain in control. Inside, the rage howled.

“Don’t,” he said, hating the pleading tone in his voice. “Don’t say anything. Please.”

Gilly’s mouth twisted into a cruel smile, and he said, “Fayne, look. Jun’s been sleeping with the village mayor’s son.”

It burst out of him all at once. Sudden heat engulfed his body, a flash of white crossed his vision, and something inside of him snapped. A scream tore from his throat and he lunged forward so that his hands closed around Gilly’s neck. His entire world closed in until he was tunneled in on Gilly’s face. He wanted to wipe away that ugly smirk… to hear his screams drown out the echo of his words…

Arms pulled at him. Fayne was screaming, and Anset was shouting at him, but Jun was too far gone to care.

Then something struck him from behind. Jun grunted and pitched forward, his hands slipping, which gave Gilly a chance to quickly slip away him and race out the cabin door. A low growl escaped his throat when he realized his target had escaped. He whirled around and slammed his hands against the walls of the cabin, and beneath his palms, the wood burst into flame. Underneath his feet, the ground began to shake.

It could have been seconds or minutes or hours. Jun didn't know. He wandered through the village streets in a haze, unfeeling of the glacial winds that ripped his scarf away from his neck, uncaring of the snow that melted into his clothes. He was drenched in sweat and felt hot all over. Fire spurted from his hands and the earth quaked.

Then a familiar voice cut through the dull roar in his ears.

“JUN!”

A shiver ran through his body from head to toe. As suddenly and quick as it came, the rage drained away and Jun gasped as the chill hit his face. Then his father’s arms were around him.

“You’re alright. Thank the Light, you’re alright. Woah, boy, you’re freezing. Here.” Quickly, his father unwrapped his own scarf, draped it around Jun’s neck, and tucked it up to cover his lower face. Then he took Jun’s arm and began to pull him away from the village.

“I’m sorry,” Jun said, though in his daze, he wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for, his voice small and muffled through the cloth. His head hurt, and when the fingers of his free hand touched the side of his head, they came away wet and dark. He attempted to turn his head, but his father grabbed him by the chin.

“Don’t look,” he said, gruffly. But Jun had already caught a glimpse.

The village was burning.

Jun felt dizzy. He bit down on his tongue and his mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood. It wasn’t even until his father let him sit down on his bed back in their wagon and wrapped his arms around him and began whispering comforting reassurances in his ear that he realized he was crying for the first time in eleven years.


For the next few days, a fever seized him, sending him tossing and turning and shivering and shaking in bed. He mumbled incoherently in his delirium, and when he woke, he could only gasp out a few sentences before sinking back into the throes of the sickness.

“Gilly. I hurt him. How is he?”

“He’s fine,” his father soothed, and lay another damp cloth across Jun’s forehead. “A little shaken, no more than anyone else.”

“I didn’t, didn’t hurt anyone else, did I?”

“No, son. You didn’t. Don’t worry. Just rest, now. We can talk when you feel better.”

“I’m sorry, Papa. I’m so sorry. I tried, I tried so hard to follow the Way of the Leaf. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

“I know. Hush, now, and sleep.”


Fayne pointed at the cracks that carved their way through the ground on which the village had stood. Her voice trembled as she described what had happened. She wouldn’t meet Jun’s eyes. Jun thought that was the most awful part of this entire mess; that people whom he had known all his life now looked at him like a rabid dog that needed to be put down. Jun understood that they were afraid. Light, he was afraid of himself. But understanding their fear didn’t make him feel any better, not at all.

When his fever had broken, he learned that the snow had stopped most of the fire from doing much damage to the village. The only building to burn was the abandoned cabin, which was already decrepit and wasn’t much missed. Jun didn’t want to imagine what might have happened if the weather had been drier.

He knew that he was lucky that the damage hadn’t been worse. He also knew that the Tuatha’an and villagers wouldn’t allow him to stay.

When Fayne finished, Mahdi rose to his feet and said, “Hama Valon is two days’ travel south. You should leave soon.”

“I’ll take him,” Jun’s father said.

And with that, the decision made and his sentence pronounced, the crowd of people who had gathered to watch began to disperse. Jun waited, searching for familiar ash-blond hair and grey eyes, and found him by the village mayor, who was deep in a heated, angry discussion with Mahdi and holding his son by a firm grip across his shoulders. Anset, too, was avoiding Jun’s gaze. It hurt more than Jun expected.

But when he finally glanced up, Jun tilted his head in a silent question. Come with me?

Anset shook his head and turned away. His smile was gone.


They left his father’s wagon in the care of their neighbors and saddled their horses for the journey. As they traveled, Jun wondered at what awaited him in Hama Valon. A city of witches and sorcerers, or so he heard. They called themselves Aes Sedai and Asha’man, and lived high in the clouds, looking down upon the normal folks from their tall, grey tower. Jun wondered if they would understand the rage coiled tightly deep within him, and if they could help him. What if they turned him away?

At nightfall, they stopped at the side of the road. After dinner, his father brought out a pipe, packed the bowl with tabac, and lit it with a stick from the fire.

“We should talk,” he said, and then handed the pipe to Jun.

Jun’s eyes widened, and he took the pipe with a sense of revelation. He had smoked before, in circles with other young men, a few drags behind their wagons, but never within his father’s sight. It wasn’t that he needed to keep it hidden. It just seemed to him that it wasn’t something that sons shared with their fathers, but rather something shared between men.

His father was preparing to say goodbye.

“I had a feeling that something like this would happen,” his father said. Then he chuckled at Jun’s expression. “Don’t look at me like that. What, you think I didn’t notice you and that lad together? Please, I raised you. But anyways, we need to talk. There’s something that I think you ought to know.”

Jun blew out a ring of smoke, and then he shook his head and handed the pipe back to his father.

“I don’t need to know,” he said. “You’re my father in all the ways that count.”

His father smiled, the crinkles by his eyes wrinkling in the way that they did when he was truly pleased.

“Then indulge your selfish father and allow me to tell you. I won’t feel at peace until you know.”

The corners of Jun’s lips twitched, and after a moment, he nodded. What his father said next surprised him more than he expected.

“I didn’t always follow the Way of the Leaf. I was in the Queen’s Guard -”

“The Queen’s Guard? Of Andor?”

“Listen here, son. This story is long enough without your interruptions. Right, so, we were traveling to Tar Valon at the time. The Queen had decided that she needed to visit the White Tower, right at the start of spring. The journey was unremarkable. When we got to Tar Valon, our Captain gave us our pay and time to enjoy ourselves.

“I was in one of the taverns, drinking a beer and wondering if I should join in a game of dice, when a woman walked in. I thought I was having a vision. She looked nothing like any woman I had ever seen. Her skin was as smooth as a maiden’s, but her face was knowing and wise. She was small and slender with long, dark hair that shone like silk and had eyes shaped like yours. She held you in her arms. And she came straight to my table and told me that she had been looking for me. Her dreams had told her where to find me. She asked me to take care of you.

“I don’t know why she did it. She was clearly desperate, and by the way she glanced around the tavern, she seemed frightened, too. Why else would a mother give away a child? I could tell that it tore her apart to leave you. But she was determined and so certain that it had to be me. ‘The Wheel weaves as it wills,’ she said. She didn’t have to beg. I couldn’t say no.

“I’m sorry that I can’t tell you more. She didn’t tell me her name, and I don’t know anything about your real father -”

“- don’t say that, you’re my real father -”

“Light, boy, you know what I meant! So anyway, here I was, a Guardsman of the lowest rank, unmarried, and charged with the care of a young babe. I didn’t know what to do. So I just left. I didn’t even tell my Captain. I left the city, thinking that I could return to Caemlyn, and about a day later, I met a band of Tuatha’an. Lucky I did, because I didn’t know how to care for a child and you wouldn’t stop crying. They welcomed us with open arms. A few days later, I got rid of my sword.”

Jun took another puff from the offered pipe. They smoked in silence for several long minutes. Then his father sighed.

“I still wonder why she picked me,” he said. “I wonder if it was true that she had seen me in a dream. She told me that I had a kind face.”

“You think I should look for her?”

“Only if you want to. She might find you.”

“Unlikely. It’s been nineteen years,” Jun said, mildly.

“Aye,” his father agreed. “Nineteen of the best years of my life.”

He reached over to tousle Jun’s hair. Jun squirmed in his seat and complained, but didn’t pull away. They smoked until the campfire burned down to coals and the stars glimmered above them, strewn across the night sky. Then Jun finally voiced the doubts that he had been having ever since he woke up from his fever.

“What if I can’t control it?”

“You will,” his father said, sounding more confident than Jun felt. “This power has always been in you. It has always been a part of who you were meant to be. It doesn’t change who you are. Only, remember this. You have power now. You can hurt others more easily without meaning to. So be kind. Be gentle. Think with your mind and feel with your heart. You’re gonna be one of them now, but don’t let that be all that you are.”

Jun felt warmth blossom in his heart. As he lay in his blankets that night and looked up at the star-studded sky, he let himself believe that everything would work out.


It was just before dawn when the horses sensed a threat and neighed in warning. Jun startled awake, and after he wiped his eyes of sleep, he peered cautiously through the thicket by the road.

Then he saw the approaching figures. Large, hulking shapes lumbered down the road in an uneven formation, kicking up dust. Their heads were topped with the horns of animals. Immediately, adrenaline flooded his veins. He crawled over to his father and shook him awake.

“Papa, get up. Look. What’s that?”

His father cursed. “Trollocs! Quick, saddle the horses! Hurry!”

Jun had never seen Trollocs before. His first thought was: “By the Light, they are real?” Borderlanders who visited the Tuatha’an would tell fantastic stories of the beasts they had faced; but when they left, people looked at each other and smiled and said that they were just tales made up to scare children.

His second thought was: “Why would Shadowspawn be here?”

Then there was no more time to think. Only blind panic and fear, as the Trollocs sniffed the air and called loudly to each other. Jun unhitched the horses; however, they were too nervous to mount and as Jun struggled to calm them, his father shouted for him to run. The Trollocs had found them. They fled, on foot, into the forest. The Trollocs chased them, covering ground faster than expected for their size.

With a cry of pain, his father tripped over a root and fell. Jun raced back and tugged at his arm. His father shook his head.

“Run, you fool boy,” his father growled. “Save yourself!”

Jun ignored him and helped his father up, but when his father took a step, he gasped in pain and nearly fell again.

“Can’t,” he said through gritted teeth. “Go!”

“I won’t leave you!”

But what could he do? He turned to face the Trollocs and trembled as he saw them closing in. They saw him, a lone weaponless boy, and laughed, making horrible grating noises and licking their lips.

Jun looked at them square in the face and made up his mind. The Way of the Leaf had taught him to never hurt any living thing, but these beasts were hardly worth it. He stretched out his palms and reached for the rage within. But no matter how hard he tried, the heat shifted, evading his grasp. He hissed with frustration. Why would the rage come when a stupid oaf like Gilly taunted him, and then refuse to be called in moments like this?

The closest Trolloc lifted his axe. Jun watched the weapon rise with odd detachment. Time seemed to stretch and slow, every movement occurring in slow motion. A strange, inner peace overcame him.

He accepted that he might die.

The rage flooded out like a burst dam, nearly blinding him with its intensity. It was so hot, it was almost unbearable. Jun reached out a hand and didn’t know what he did, but then there was a loud noise and a blast that threw him to the ground. When he scrambled to his feet, his mouth dropped open in shock. A group of riders bore down on them. Voices shouted out orders and metal clashed against metal as the humans worked with military efficiency, cutting swathes through the Trollocs.

A few paces away, he found his father lying unconscious, half-crushed under the body of a dead Trolloc. With strength that he didn’t know he had, he shoved the beast aside and cradled his father in his arms.

“Help!” he yelled. “Someone, help please!”

Two riders stopped. One dismounted to help Jun lift his father onto his horse, and then the other rider offered a hand so that Jun swung himself up into the saddle behind him. They moved quickly through the fighting. Some humans were armed with weapons while others cast fire from outstretched hands. Above them all flew a strange, multicolored flag, centered with a black-and-white circle divided by a sinuous line. The air carried the odor of burning flesh and pools of dark liquid covered the ground, strewn among the dead.

It was too much. Jun couldn’t process it all. He muttered a quick apology to the rider in front of him, and then he leaned over the side of the saddle and retched. After that, he remembered nothing.

When he woke up, he was laying in the infirmary of the Grey Tower.

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