Scene 1

  Dark clouds carrying biting winds swallowed the full moon, guards on watch made their way around the perimeter walls of the grand castle of Seversnow. Tom never understood why his father insisted on soldiers marching up there during nights like these, no one was mad enough to oppose the Crofts, not in this kind of cold.

  As the night grew older the light snow hardened into a blizzard, perfect weather for sneaking out and going for a drink or two.

  Even though he was in his eighteenth year, Tom still had to follow strict rules. Being the son of a High Lord came with its benefits, but it also meant he couldn’t do anything he wanted- going off and drinking with his friends in the middle of the night being one of them.

  Escaping the royal villa without being seen in a storm like this was as easy a task as outwitting a cupbearer in a game of chance, however, getting back in, drunk out of his wits, now that would be a challenge. That was a problem for later.

  As expected, the guards at the back gate weren’t at their posts. They’d taken shelter in the shed beside the keep, huddled around a fire, laughing loudly about something unimportant. This made it effortless for Tom to get up against the old stone wall without being seen.

  Standing fifteen feet tall. The wall was a problem for most men. Tom, however, had climbed it dozens of times. Using the small holes and cracks, he was on top in no time, and down on the other side in less.

  Looking around Main Street [Other names?] there was no soul to be seen. All were either home resting after a hard day’s work, huddled around hearths, or already drinking in alehouses, singing with their friends.

  ‘That was easy enough.’ He remarked, ’Now off to the dragon’.

  The Dragon was not just a normal tavern. On the outside, it looked rundown with its withered red walls, rusted green roof and broken, dimmed window panes, but it welcomed every man with coin in his pocket, served the yellow, brown and sometimes even gold stuff and its hearth always kept its customers warm.

  At least, that’s what Tom claimed kept him coming back. But the real draw was different - only here, in the Dragon, could a man always find someone selling Pure.

  Some people couldn’t live without it, Tom wasn’t one of them, but from time to time, he didn’t mind taking some. And tonight was one of those times he’d planned to indulge.

  Entering the tavern, he was immediately greeted by that familiar ruckus of men arguing, singing and generally being there. The air smelled of smoke, ale and old boots - just like always.

  ’This is going to be fun.’ he stated.

  ’Tommy boy!’ Said a short youth with long black hair, clean face and a sharp nose ‘There you are… You’re late!’

  ‘Better late than never Dereck’ replied Tom with a smile on his face.

  ‘Come Tommy, George’s got us a table in the back.’ He grabbed him by the shoulder and guided him through the tavern. They passed by all kinds of folks, a few glancing towards Tom, but most minding their own business.

  ‘M’lord, didn’t think I’d see you here tonight’ said a ginger girl with red cheeks carrying three flagons of brown ale on a tray.

  ‘Tomorrow’s a special day Betsy, I hope you’ve got the yellow stuff…’ he replied.

  ‘I’ll be right there M’lord.’ She smiled brightly.

  ’Thank you. Oh, and Betsy, how many times have I said it before? Stop calling me that!’ Said Tom, frowning slightly.

  ‘I’m sorry M’lord. Never again’ laughed the girl.

  Yes, his father was the Lord of Seversnow, and the High Lord of the Nordic Lands, making him a lord as well, nevertheless, he hated being treated like one. He would rather be a commoner - spending his days doing honest work on the fields and his nights in alehouses - than listen to priests endlessly talk about politics, history and philosophy during lessons.

  Approaching the table he recognized George immediately. His yellow head made him stand out like a lone torch in a sea of shadows.

  ‘Tommy what happened to your hair?’ He asked.

  ‘Anna said I must cut it for the wedding,’ he frowned, ‘She said I needed to look like a lord’s son.’ Just the other day his brown hair curled all the way to his shoulders, but now, the locks were gone - trimmed neatly into a short, stylish cut, the sides carefully faded, framing his features.

  ‘Well, I think it suits you… makes you look like a proper lord!’ He mocked.

  ’Ah piss off!’ Tom chuckled.

  ‘Come sit’ he pointed to an empty chair ‘I want to introduce you to these fine ladies!’ Besides George sat two young women, both light of skin, one wearing her black hair straight and the other tying her reddish weaves up high with a kerchief.

  As Tom and Dereck set down, Betsy, the serving girl brought them yellow ale, the best kind.

  ‘Ah yes, made from the finest grains north of the Iris.’ Dereck stated.

  ‘Oi Tommy, I was just telling these girls about that time when we got so bloody drunk drinking the yellow that we went to the stables and took your father’s horses- ‘

  ‘And then we raced them half way up the White Forest.’ Tom cut him off. ‘Those were the good days George’ he added with a nostalgic grin.

  ‘Aren’t you supposed to be preparing for the trip tomorrow my lord?’ Inquired one of the girls, dark brown eyes staring into Tommy’s.

  ‘Well yes, here I am, mentally preparing for the trip,’ he took a sip of his drink. Stronger than he remembered. ‘And please, don’t call me that, I’m just Tom.’

  ‘They said you were like this…Well then, alright Tom, Name’s Mary’ she raised her flagon ‘To a safe and prosperous trip!’ Exclaimed the girl and they all drank.

  ’To new friendships!’ announced Tom still holding her gaze.

  Five drinks later Tom was finally starting to feel relief. This was what he liked - where he belonged most, surrounded by his real friends. He always had to put on a mask when he was around his family, the servants, priests, knights, he was always pretending. But here, amongst the commoners, he felt care free, he was accepted by them and that made him feel whole. No yet completely… but close.

  At that moment a man wearing a dark coat and hood approached their table ‘Heard you was interested in the purple’ he stated, a look of malice on his face.

  ‘You selling’? ‘ Dereck asked.

  ‘For the right price’ grinned the man.

  ‘How much you want?’

  ’Three gilded owls’ From his coat he pulled out a small wooden box.

  ‘That’s ridiculous’ snapped George.

  ’Now lads, it’s a fair price for fair men, besides, each and every one of these fine gentlemen around us would be willing to pay that price, and after all, I guarantee this is the finest product you’ll ever try!’ Boasted the man.

  ’Nekronis take you! You want to rob us, last time it was one gilded owl for three boxes!’ Shouted George.

  ‘We’ll take it’ Tom said calmly pulling out a pouch from his overcoat, giving the three gilded owls to the man.

  ‘Now that’s what I like to see’ smiled the man and left as they exchanged the goods.

  Pure, the drug of the gods, no one knew where it was produced or how it was distributed throughout the kingdom, however, everyone knew what it offered. Tom couldn’t wait for the thrill of the little purple pip, it was the size of his thumbnail, just small enough so that he could put it under his tongue and suck on the spice in it.

  As soon as he put it in his mouth the effects hit him. A slow warmth spread through his body as the Pure took hold -a blooming heat that curled through his veins. A creeping euphoria that unraveled every knot of tension he had ever known. His limbs grew light, as if he were sinking into a feather-stuffed bed, yet at the same time, floating weightless in still water.

  His senses dulled, the world around him losing its sharp edges, blurring like ink bleeding into parchment. Sounds faded into a distant hum, as though he were hearing them from behind thick walls.

  Worries that once gnawed at the borders of his mind drifted away like autumn leaves caught in a lazy current, slipping further and further from his grasp. Even the weight of his body seemed to vanish, his thoughts untethered, drifting in an endless expansion of quiet bliss.

  Tom glanced to his right, Mary, the red-haired girl, said something, but with everything going on in his mind, he couldn’t understand a single word.

  The next thing he knew, she took him by the hand and led him upstairs to a room.

  Scene 2

  ‘Your grace the men are ready. ‘ Stated a man wearing armor engraved in purple and white, longsword by his side.

  ‘Sir? Did you hear me?’ The man’s grey eyes looked at him inquiringly.

  Thomas found himself on horseback, stationed atop a grassy hill. Pale yellow clouds loomed above, the air heavy with storm-born silence. Below, a vibrant green field stretched beyond the horizon. As he turned, he was startled to find an army assembled behind him - cavalry, infantry, archers - all still, all watching. Majestic violet banners flapped in the wind.

  He narrowed his gaze at one, a white dragon devouring its own tail. The emblem meant nothing to him. He tried to place the house - but couldn’t. And then, he felt it - something weighty on his head. A crown?

  Sudden screams pulled his attention back to the field. Armies collided. Shields cracked, horses cried out, swords rung like thunder. The field was chaos.

  ’Your grace, the plan was for us to join the battle once King Parador confronted the enemy…What are your orders? Am I to give the signal to the infantry?’ Again the same soldier, apparently a High Lord of some sorts looked at Thomas with those wide smokey eyes.

  ‘What was he talking about? Signal? Plan?’

  ’Your grace, we need to start the advance before the enemy gains the upper hand!’ The man pressed.

  ‘You’re right! Cavalry advance! Full gallop! Infantry follow behind!’ Thomas suddenly shouted, as though waking from a trance. He dug his heels into the white steed and charged forward.

  The sky blackened. Yellow mixed with grey. Bolts of lightning lit the clouds. It was almost beautiful, riding headlong into war, sword drawn, shield raised. The anticipation swelled in his chest, a bloodlust that thrilled rather than frightened him.

  To his side, the grey eyed High Lord, gave him a glance - ‘I’m with you to the end’ - his sword lifted, pointed skyward.

  More riders joined them, all roaring their war cries. The two cavalries met with a thunderous crash - steel on steel, bone on iron. Arrows fell like locusts.

  Thomas struck down a footman, then another. Every slash, every cry, every splatter of blood only fed his fury.

  As he continued, he realized something - he enjoyed this. He craved this feeling. This sensation made him feel good. He felt no fear. Only exhilaration.

  This - This was Life.

  Together with the grey-eyed lord, he broke through the enemy lines. Fighting an endless stream of men, they made their way to a small to s small ridge. From the vantage, they surveyed the battlefield below.

  ‘Your Grace’ grey eyes shifted his gaze from the onslaught to the sky. ‘God have mercy…’

  His voice trembled. He pointed upward ‘Hellhail!’ [Maybe Hellstorm]

  Thomas followed his gaze.

  He saw something impossible: the sky was on fire, millions of balls of flame were falling from the clouds like rain. No… those weren’t balls of flame, they were burning rocks, some as large as houses.

  ‘Run for your lives!’ Shouts were heard from both sides of the battlefield

  ’The heavens are punishing us!’ Men were dropping their weapons on the ground, running frantically.

  ‘Save yourselves!’

  Panic consumed the battlefield. Soldiers dropped weapons, screamed, ran. Horses reared. The first stones crashed into the earth. Men and beasts burned alive. Others crushed instantly. Still, Thomas stood fast.

  ‘Fight! Fight you cravens!’ He bellowed, swinging his sword.

  He beheaded a rider mid-charge. ‘Come! With me!’

  He looked over his shoulder - his companions were already charging after him -spears and swords at the ready - expressions vacant, as though entranced by his madness.

  He turned again.

  An arrow, its silver tip catching the glow of hellfire, was flying directly toward his face.

  Time slowed.

  He tilted his head. Just enough. It whisked past his cheek, close enough to shave the skin.

  No time to think.

  He directed his horse down the small hill and cut down two lightly armored in a single sweep. Up ahead, he saw a tall rider, in ornate blue armor, heading right for him, cutlass raised.

  Their weapons clashed.

  Thomas blocked his hit, but missed his counterstrike. The man in return retaliated, slashing his horse’s hindquarters. The beast screamed and buckled. Throwing Thomas to the ground hard, the air knocked from his lungs.

  Lying down, he grasped for air and tried to sit up. From the corner of his eye, he saw the blue knight approach - now off his mount - coming in to finis him off.

  But before he could finish the blow -

  Grey eyes drove his longsword through the man’s back.

  The tall enemy dropped lifeless.

  The lord crouched, offering Thomas a hand. ‘We need to hurry-’

  Out of nowhere a shadow started growing around them, grey eyes shoved Thomas out of the way just before a massive flaming rock crashed down where he had stood, killing the High Lord instantly.

  Again on the grass, Thomas tired to rise, but before he could -

  Something hard hit struck him from behind. Blackness.

  ‘See….’ whispered a voice.

  ‘Wake up Tommy!’ A soft woman’s voice cut through the fog.

  ‘See me…’ the whisper drifted into silence.

  Scene 3

  ‘Wake up Tommy!’ She slapped him across the face ‘For goodness sake Thomas wake up!’ A pair of bright, piercing blue eyes stared down at him, her golden locks flowing over her shoulders. It was his older sister Anna - the Angel of the North they called her; though she didn’t look so angelic this morning, not with that scowl on her face.

  ‘Anna what are you - The hellhail [Hellstorm?]? Where am I?’ He gasped. He looked around confusedly, sweat coating his forehead, his face pale. He was lying on a straw bed, in a small chamber.

  It was only a dream. He thought, trying to catch his breath.

  ‘Tom what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’ She pulled back the stained curtains from a window, letting in the morning light.

  ‘It’s nothing… I’m fine, just overslept…’ he murmured, rubbing his face.

  ‘Well… come on, let’s go.’ She turned facing him. ‘We’ll be late and you know father won’t stand for that. We need to get going!’

  He grunted and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His feet could barely support him.

  ‘Are you drunk?!’ She took a closer look, her sharp eyes scanned him. ’Tommy out of all the days…’ she sighed deeply ‘Put on your clothes, we’re leaving in less that an hour.’

  He tried to pick up his breeches off the floor, but failed miserably, stumbling back onto the bed.

  Anna stepped closer. She knew. ’You’re taking it again aren’t you?’ Disappointment flared in her voice.

  ‘No… I just had a couple of drinks and since it was late…… or rather early -’ he glanced outside, noticing the sun was already halfway up. ‘-I didn’t bother returning to the villa.’ He immediately regretted saying it. He knew it was worthless lying but still did it. Why was he like this?

  ‘Don’t do that to me Tommy’ she whispered ‘I’m your sister, don’t lie to me.’

  ‘Look, I’m sorry… I won’t do it again.’ He lowered his head and took the breeches she handed him.

  ‘Promise!’

  He looked at her confusedly.

  ‘Promise me you will never take Pure again!’ She locked eyes with him.

  ‘I promise I will never take Pure again Anna.’ He sighed, his voice low.

  ‘Tommy you don’t get it now, but one of these days you’ll have to start acting like a son of a High Lord.’ She spoke softly.

  Tom grunted, eyes rolling. ‘For heavens sake, James is getting married in less than a fortnight, and he’s only two years your senior!’ Anna exclaimed with passion.

  ‘You know he isn’t pleased about the arrangement’ Tom cut her off ’As a matter of fact, he’s furious he’s being forced to marry a girl he hasn’t even met!’

  ‘But still, you don’t see him drinking with commoners, getting high and sleeping with whores because of it…He is acting like an adult!’ She raised her voice ‘And look at Richard!’

  ‘Richard’s the firstborn!’ He interrupted her again.

  ‘Yes, but he’s also determined, full of initiative, a scholar and a leader… and father sees that!’ Pausing, she sighed. ‘And that leaves you…‘You’ll have the most important duty of us all…’

  ‘You don’t actually think that keeping order amongst the outlanders is important, do you?’ he scoffed. ‘It’s just a duty made up for youngest sons and bastards!’ And father’s only too eager to send me to that frozen Abyss, just to be rid of me.

  Anna deserved better. She was probably the only person who he truly cared for. Always emphatic, she stood by his side even when he was wrong - helping him, guiding him - yet, he always seemed to unload his frustrations onto her.

  ‘Look Anna, I’m sorry for everything. I’m just…’ he hesitated, searching for the right word. ‘Confused. Everything is happening so fast, it feels like just yesterday, we were kids playing conquest, running around the keep, pulling pranks on each other, but now… everyone is expecting so much from us.’

  ’That’s called life Tommy.’ She whispered, tears welling in her eyes. She turned and started toward the door, ‘Let’s go, father is going to be furious.’

  ‘Anna -’ he started before she could leave. ‘- I didn’t do it.’

  ‘Didn’t do what?’ She glanced back at him

  ’Slept with the girl.’ He looked her in the eyes, honesty written across his face.

  Yes he did drink, he took Pure, but ever since losing her, Tom decided he never wanted to let another girl break his heart.

  Compared to last night the Main Street was bustling. People crowded the lanes - both soldier and commoner - everyone in a rush, weaving from shop to shop. One man was even carried a chicken, boasting to his wife about the steal of a deal he’d made.

  Passing through the main gates of the keep, he never failed to notice the two looming statues guarding the entrance, heads turned to the east. On the left: a figure with long hair and trimmed beard, spear in his arm - his great-great-grandfather, Thorimir, the man who had crashed the Outlander Rebellion. Across from him stood another giant in stone, clean-shaven with shoulder-length hair, sword raised high - the first High Lord of the Nordic Lands. Benjamin the Bold, they called him. The man who had sworn fealty to the Stallard, helping bring peace to Edensburg.

  In the courtyard, a group of soldiers in Croft white and blue, approached Tom and Anna. A broad-shouldered, dark-skinned man with a shield strapped to his back and a curved saber hanging from his belt stepped forward.

  ‘My lord, my lady -’ he spoke with thick, travelled accent ‘-your lord father sent me to find and escort you to the docks. Everything is prepared for the voyage.’

  Tom always felt intimidated whilst speaking to Captain Jhyrek, the man had presence - a looming, silent strength - his deep violet eyes watching, judging. And that white hair of his made him look almost -

  ‘Wait - did he say the docks?’ Tom turned to Anna ‘We’re traveling by ship?’

  ‘Haven’t you been paying any attention?’

  ‘Apparently not.’

  ‘It’s winter Tom, with all the snow that’s fallen in the past fortnight, we wouldn’t arrive at Seraphir until the next full moon. By ship we’ll be there in less than ten days’

  He grunted.

  ‘Well, you could always stay here and help Magistrate Tiberion with local affaires.’ Her lips curled into a half-smile.

  ‘And let you have all the fun? Oh no, I’m not gonna freeze to death here while you’re off gallivanting across the continent, enjoying the wonders of the world.’

  Scene 4

  A light breeze was blowing, gently fluttering sails of different colors. The Bay of Ice was the largest harbor in The Nordic Lands, sheltering all sorts of ships ranging from single-manned skiffs, merchant galleons, and freighters to even a few frigates.

  Having the most important harbor in the region, Seversnow attracted many kinds of people. The docks extended into the bustling port, lined with markets on one side and anchored vessels on the other. It was always swarming with local fishermen carrying buckets of the morning catch, weapon-smiths bringing in trunks full of freshly forged steel, southerners selling different types of exotic fruit and drink, tradesmen showing off their trinkets and jewelry, and of course, slavers leading branded men to the auctions.

  Even though sailing made him nauseous, Tom loved the salt water smell. He envied the seamen - they were able to explore the whole world, follow the winds and their hearts. To him, they were free men seeking out adventures. They were everything he could never be.

  At the far end of the port, a small crowd was gathered, probably there to see his family off and say farewell to James. Behind them, stood a grand war ship, white sails fluttering about in the wind making the Croft family sigil, an elegant sabertooth outlined with black, look as if it was running.

  The Valiant was the pride of Seversnow. This great, three-decked ship, with its iron-clad hull made even some fortresses look small. The lower levels housing rows of canons and the uppers were fitted with ballistas loaded with bolts the size of full grown men, giving this vessel a fearsome reputation.

  Heading through the crowd, Tom noticed that both commoners and noblemen gave him side glances as if wanting to say ‘They should have left you behind, you’ll only bring shame’, and indeed, upon reaching the royal convoy, where his brothers and Magistrate Tiberion were waiting, he did feel like an outsider.

  Both Richard and James were tall, had blonde hair, light blue eyes and a strong jawline - true Crofts, their father’s sons - whereas Tom was a bit shorter, had dark eyes and an upturned nose, like his mother, whom he unfortunately didn’t remember.

  ‘Well, well, look who’s decided to bless us with his presence.’ Muttered James.

  ‘We were starting to think you would never come Thomas.’ Added Magistrate Tiberion. Even though the man was past his seventieth year, he spoke as firmly as ever.

  ‘I’m sorry, I got held up with something important.’

  ‘I know your business in local taverns and alehouses is of great significance little brother.’ Richard, the eldest of the Croft children, said with a grin. ‘But I also think that the needs of your family are equally, if not more important.’

  ‘Richard! James!’ A commanding voice coming from the ship broke in. ‘Has your brother arrived?’

  From atop the boarding ramp, a figure came into sight. His stare always cold yet calculating, as if measuring the worth of everything he saw.

  Theodor Croft had been the High Lord of The Nordic Lands for nearly thirty years now. An experienced commander, famous for his conquests both in the northern and eastern parts of the kingdom, recognized by many for his land and naval stratagem. He always seemed calm and in control.

  As they were boarding the Valiant, amongst all the people shouting and cheering, wishing them safe travels and good fortune, Tom heard a familiar voice. ‘Thought you could leave without saying goodbye?’

  ‘Dereck!’ A small smile appeared on his face. ‘Sorry I left you so abruptly, I was in a bit of a hurry.’

  ‘Never mind that Tommy’ he hugged him, and in doing so, Tom felt he something slip into his overcoat pocket. ‘I hope it was worth it… With that girl I mean’ he laughed.

  ‘Why does everyone think I only care about sleeping with women?’

  ‘Well, you did go away with her, didn’t you?’

  ‘Guess I did…’

  ‘Tommy!’ Anna yelled from the ship. ‘You coming, or are you freezing to death?’

  ’Sorry Dereck, I got to go. We’ll talk when I come back’

  ‘Cheer up Tom, you’re going to a marriage!’

  Halfway up the boarding ramp he looked back once more at the castle of Seversnow ‘It’s only a fortnight or two’ he whispered to himself.

  On the deck, sailors were hoisting the sails, raising anchor and getting ready to set off for the high seas. The captain, a weathered man, with a long dark gray beard shouted commands.

  Before he could go down to the lower decks, his father approached him, a frown on his face. Putting a hand on his shoulder, he leaned in close. ‘Thomas, I know where you’ve been and what you did.’ A quiet, calm, yet vigorous voice said ‘We will talk about it later.’

  Feeling his feet tremble, Tom hurriedly moved past the crew and ran down to the lower decks, picking one of the smaller cabins which were prepared for the five Crofts.

  He sat on his bed, still feeling shivers from that gaze. His father was not a man he wanted to anger. Sighing he opened a small round window of his room and found himself staring at The Bay of Ice, the castle of Seversnow slowly becoming smaller, as it loomed high above the port, its stone walls still reddish in color, lit by the winter sun.

  ‘Haven’t even left, and already can’t wait to come back…’

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.