Haven Chronicles

Jericho took a breath; he held it and let the arrow soar towards its target. In this case was a wooden bull’s eye set up thirty feet away from him. He was supposed to be at his session with his tutor but needed to get away that day. He'd decided that maybe he should to focus on something different so he headed out to the archery range. It was only a week’s time until he turned eighteen and that would mean he would be inducted into the legions of Seaveldor’s knights. It wasn’t a prospect that he was to overly joyous about. Jericho hated to fight, he preferred to sit in the library and read about the travels of the various heroes of the citadel. The legion would force him to fight, even though this was how his father said was the only way for him to properly become king. He was probably right, every king before him was a knight before they ruled Erebos.

“Jericho, what are you doing out here?” Ozwald his tutor had found him at last and he looked none to happy to see him skipping his lessons.

“Do I really have to take my lessons today? I really need time to think.” Although the only thing he was thinking about was ways to get out of his induction.

“I’m sorry, but it would be irresponsible of me to let you skip your lessons, not to mention what your father might think.”

Jericho heaved a sigh and put away his bow on the rack. He turned and followed Ozwald back into the castle, a stone monster with towers seeming to reach up forever into the sky, guards could be seen along the length of the wall, and windows into the staff’s rooms scattered along the side. They walked down a path that lead to a titanic cast iron door. The guards passed them through and they continued down meticulously decorated corridors and up the staircases.

“What’s on your mind Jericho, you seem distracted today?” Ozwald finally asked five minutes into the lesson, after getting tired of being ignored.

“It’s nothing Oz, just got stuff going on this week.” Jericho knew Ozwald could tell he was lying, but didn’t need another person to tell him it was his duty as the prince to join the legion and fight.

Ozwald stared him down through his glasses trying to look intimidating, his short, wavy black making him even less so. In the end he dismissed it and decided to take mercy on his pupil.

“I think you’ve learned enough for one day. Why don’t you take the rest of the day to practice your archery some more?”

“Thanks Ozwald, I appreciate it.” Jericho had no intention of going back to the archery range. He was going to his bedroom to lie in his bed and think things through.

He got to room and lay down on the bed, staring blankly at the stone ceiling. It didn’t take long for him to start drifting in and out of consciousness. His thoughts melting away with the sun. Letting him fall eventually into a dreamless sleep.

He awoke to see the sun peeking just above the Far East wall of Seaveldor’s border. He got up lazily, ran his fingers through his long brown hair and changed into a brown wool shirt in hopes of keeping warm in the late winter months.

He walked into the range found his usual bow and picked a quiver of arrows. He picked an arrow, took a breath and fired at a target in the back row fifty feet away. Then something happened; the target burst into flames. The guards jumped to attention looking for what caused the explosion only see Jericho was alone in the courtyard. His arrow had caused it. Confused and shocked Jericho watched to remains of the target burn for several minutes. He grabbed another arrow, took his breath and fired at a random target. CRACK! It burst into flames same as the last; the guards looked on in awe and shock.

“How in the hell is that even possible?” It was one of the guards off to Jericho’s left. Apparently his father had already gotten news of what had happened and was wondering the same thing. Because he came through the doors only seconds after it was said.

“Jericho, get inside, now!” He said in a tone of unmistakable urgency.

“Dad, what in the world just happened? How did I make it catch fire?” Jericho asked puzzled.

“Jericho, get inside, now!” His voice was starting to rise.

He rushed inside and was almost pushed into a small room off to the side of a forgotten corridor. Inside the room was another man in a chair in the corner. The man’s face was shrouded behind his hood which looked as if he rarely took it off.

“Jericho, this is Marcus, he used to one of the trainers at the stadium. Now he trains mages in a cottage in the forest. He’s going to be testing to see what happened out in the range earlier today.”

As soon as his father had the words out of his mouth Jericho had his ticket out of the Legion and into a whole new kind of fight.

“Pleasure to meet you Jericho; this is going to be one hell of a test.” The words sent a shudder down Jericho’s spine.