The Name Of The King

Chapter 1

Melinda drew in the smell of fresh turned earth and potatoes. She watched the tree line, picking up on the signs the coming fall shown especially in the subtle changes of the leaves. She had one more trip to the monastery planed before winter fell. She didn't belong to the monastery. She was a loan mage, unlike the royal mages who served the Kings and the neighboring lands. Despite all this she still made regular trips and gathered ingredients in order to heal the injured who has been taken there. Iskandar monastery lie beyond the kingdom where the land met the ocean. This place of healing rested on a Mountain Island which had glittering waterfalls that cascaded down to the ocean. The only way to the island was over a stone bridge. This place held her fondest and most painful memory. Her father brought her and her half-brother, Warrick there before he died. They were unable to treat his wounds. She'd learned healing magic there, along with many other skills. Warrick, half mage and half human, has no affinity to magic, nor did he ever want to.

"Last one, Bastian," said Warrick with a grunt. He turned and tossed a potato to Bastian.

Bastian snatched it and placed it in the nearly full cart.

She turned and looked at the 18-year-old boy she rescued. He had grown up strong but too fast for her liking. He wore a brown shirt covered in dirt from harvesting potatoes. He rubbed the sweat off his face smearing more dirt across his scruffy chin. His long blond hair was also coated from working in the fields.

"You sure, dad?" Bastian looked up at Warrick.

When Melinda and Warrick found Bastian, it was decided Warrick and his human wife would take him on. A human boy deserves a safe normal family.

Warrick stood up and stretched his back. His short hair had turned white over the years. More lines were etched in his square face. He showed his human age, where as she, being pure mage, never aged past twenty. After a few grunts and groans Warrick turned to Bastian and shrugged. "My papa always told me too much work and no play makes you an old grump drinking too many meads at the inn."

Melinda crossed her arms. "He never said that."

Warrick shrugged again. "Sounded good. Go, kid. Lunch will be soon anyway."

Bastian turned towards Melinda. She rolled her eyes and waved him towards the cleaning in the trees. Warrick, with another exaggerated grunt, shoved his potato fork back into the ground and continued harvesting.

Melinda felt the excitement build in the boy, who wasn't really a boy anymore. They made the short trek over to a grassy opening where Warrick would bait deer in the winter. Warrick and his wife Selene taught Bastian the lessons of life; cooking, hunting, and carpentry. She had taught him the arts of war. Sword fighting, hand-to-hand combat, and magic. He was not blood to her at all, but somehow, he had an affinity for magic. It was nearly unheard of for a human to begin to master magic, but he was strong and gifted.

"I'd like to work on my magic again today," said Bastian.

Melinda shook her head. "We review first."

Bastian frowned. His obsession over learning magic had grown over the last year with his skills and power.

Melinda took a spot across from him and turned to the side, pulling her body into a fighting stance. "Hand to hand first. Have you been practicing?"

"Dad built me a training post by the house. I practice every sunup, before heading to the fields."

"Good. First rule of combat?" She side stepped so fast that in a blur she stood behind him.

Bastian turned and was facing her before she could stop moving. "Always keep an eye on your opponent."

"Rule two?" She threw a punch.