By Adam Marks



Chapter Two

His hands now covered with medicated Tarno Leaves and wrapped in bandages, Aidden sighed and sat back into his chair, closing his eyes as he tried clenching and unclenching his sore palms. From across the room of his hut, he could smell the chicken and broth that his friend Tyla had begun cooking after seeing to his blisters. Over the sound of bubbling broth and a crackling cooking fire, the melody of her humming drifted with the meal’s aroma to Aidden’s senses, and he let himself consider a short nap. Tyla laughed, handing him a bowl and spoon and then sitting herself across from him.

“I don’t think the others will take well to seeing you asleep before they come to visit you, Mr. Adaii” she coaxed, testing the dinner she had made for them and their expected guests. Aidden sighed.

“Today of all days is the worst time for a night with the boys.” He grunted, sitting up to try some of the dinner. “I think my hands will never move freely again.” Tyla chuckled under another spoonful, and relaxed further into her chair.

“The Dondels will make a man of you yet Aidden Adaii” she laughed. A knock at the door broke off Aidden’s thoughts of rebuttal, and he walked slowly to the entrance, opening the door to find his childhood friends waiting for him with full smiles.

“The man of the hour!” shouted Dolven, raising a mug of ale in praise to his younger companion. The group laughed merrily as they all entered the hut, patting their host’s shoulder as they passed by.

“I’ve heard of our young boy’s journey into manhood today!” laughed Dolven, pushing back his thick black hair as he took Aidden’s seat. He was the same age as Gurdor, and what he lacked in strength he made up in grit and personality. Dolven’s parents had been taken away from him by the Dondels when he was only 13, publicly executed for one false reason or another, but truthfully because his mother had turned away the never-ending advances of Lord Hayden. The man was infamous for preying on women and girls in the Nical camps.

Growing up alone since the time of his parent’s death, Dolven grew to possess the emotional strength and rough character that could make another man tremble when catching even the slightest angry glance. Being the type he was, Dolven never minded stating his opinion, or verbally cutting a man down to size. However, among his friends he was as faithful as the most loyal soldier, and would stand in any fight no matter how small, if he felt it was for the sake of a righteous cause.

“From boy to man in one day, I’d wager…” he chuckled, smelling the bowl of aromatic soup that Aidden had been testing moments before. “…or at least a week or two with this one” he laughed, winking at Tyla from across the table.

“Well now let’s be fair to the boy!” Gurdor smiled, filling a bowl for himself at the cooking fire. “When he wasn’t daydreaming his time away, he did a mighty fine job of saving us from the Dondel whips!” Dolven smacked his knee, barking out a deep and hearty laugh. Tyla stood up from the table, trying to conceal a smile while moving towards the fire where Gurdor stood. With a quick jab, she poked him in the side with her fork, causing the older man to jump away from the pot. The group all laughed, taking respective seats at the table.

“You all ought to be ashamed to call yourselves a friend of this man!” she scolded, pushing Gurdor further away from the cooking pot of soup and filling bowls for the rest of the group. “Especially you two, Kildor and Gardon! You’re the same age as Aidden, and still doing your own specialty! You should stand up for your friend against these two bullies!” The two laughed in response.

“Sorry my dear Tyla” Kildor chuckled, but I’m afraid our poor friend here has two bullies and two cowards for companions… certainly we are in no position to take on these two mentally-damaged fellows!” Aidden caught himself chuckling for the first time as he resigned himself to standing – it had been all he could do to swipe his dinner back from a now drooling Dolven.

Kildor was often the one coming up with something witty to say when the situation called for it, and rarely was it at his own expense. Still, the man’s youthful charisma and constant smile kept him from harm’s way after even the lowest of verbal jabs. Gardon, on the other hand, was almost completely the opposite – intense, soft spoken, constantly analyzing and re-analyzing his surroundings. He’d often chuckle with the rest of the group, but a one-on-one conversation was always threatening to become a nightmare of meaningless small talk to stave off the impending moments of silence.

Despite their many differences, the group had grown in the Nical camp together since they children, with Gurdor and Dolven being only 4 years older than the rest of the crowd (despite what they personally may wish to think). Each regarded the other as a family member worthy of total trust, and each delighted in the others company.




All images contained within this page and website, including images linked to from this page, are copyrighted 2005 by and property of Adam Marks. Likewise, all castles and their likenesses, if not sets with building instructions designed by LEGO, are also property of and copyrighted by Adam Marks. All characters herein are purely fictional, any resemblance to persons, either living or otherwise, is purely coincidental. Any reproduction or copying of any of the material on this page is strictly prohibited except with expressed written authorization.