Obsidian and Flame

Prologue

Five months earlier..

Marcus stared into the fire. It was dying, small flames licking at the air above the black ashen remains of wood. The temperature was tumbling toward the cold of night. They would need more logs. He glanced at his mother, Jill was peering at him from over a book. She devoured books like a starving word-fox, he thought to himself, amused at the image. Marcus had been taught to read: but preferred not to.

"Ahem", Jill cleared her throat lightly, her big dark eyes flashing toward the fire and then back at him.

"Alright, I'm going" Marcus replied, feigning irritation. he drug himself off the floor with an absurdly heavy sigh and lumbered like a bent and twisted troll toward the door, he turned and made his "oaf face" at her, crossing his eyes and lolling out his tongue, whilst moaning at the effort of hauling open the door.

Jill laughed, a lilting giggle that filled the small room and made Marcus grin in return. "Now get, before it's dark" She said, her voice stern, but her eyes smiling.

Marcus closed the door behind him. It was cold. He watched his breath curl into frost drops in the air as he stared into the sky. the sun was going down in a fiery molten brilliance, The clouds rimmed with a bloody pink that faded into the deep violet of night. The intense skies heralded the changing of seasons, Marcus inhaled deeply. The cold prickled in his nose. He watched the horizon for a few moments more and turned as if to set off for the wood shed, and yet something stopped him. He had become aware of a feeling of unease. Marcus looked around, suddenly alert, he couldn't see anything amiss so he closed his eyes, held his breath, and listened.

Over the wind he could just vaguely make out a rumble, like soft rolling thunder in the distance. There was no storm tonight. Marcus' eyes flew open! He spun toward the tree line on the far side of the valley. A rider? He paused squinting into the dim light, and thought he saw a smudge of shadow overlapping the shadows of the wood, and he was almost certain he could make out the sound of hooves. Marcus waited, and as the shadow darkened against the fading light of the meadow he knew the rider at once.

"Father." Marcus whispered his heart leaping in his chest. He knew his father even from this distance. Marcus' face broke into a huge grin. "Mother!" He called loudly toward the house, his deep voice cracking with excitement "Father's back!"

Moments later, Jill flew out of the house with a squeal of glee. She stood beside her son on raised toes, bouncing like a girl as she watched her husband ride in. He was closing ground fast, already approaching the paddocks and they could see he was driving his mount at a breakneck pace. "Why does he hurry to us so?" Jill wondered aloud her question hanging in the air.

As Ty approached he began to wave from atop his galloping horse in wide urgent gestures. Fear suddenly gripped Marcus and he heard his mother's breath catch in her throat. Something was wrong. Ty was yelling but was not yet in earshot. Marcus ran towards his father straining to make out what he was saying.

"Run!" Ty bellowed and Marcus stopped in his tracks.

"RUN!". Marcus hesitated uncertain of what to do.

"RUN BOY!... HORSES!". Ty was frantic.

Marcus had never seen his father afraid and he felt the icy fingers of panic wrapping around his own heart, causing it to race even as his mind seemed to slow down, slow enough to notice his fathers eyes, comically wide, sweat streaming from his brow, little rivers in the grime on his skin, his mouth moving around the word as he yelled it again.

"RUUUN!". And, finally, Marcus moved.

Leaping into action Marcus ran; sprinting towards the stables. His own horse was out in far paddock, and the work horses in the barn were farm stock built for strength not speed, but the new bay was young and un-gelded. Marcus burst through the stable doors and grabbed a bridle, the horses immediately sensed his distress and the spirited bay fought against the leather, Marcus wrestled with the horse cursing in frustration then forced himself to be calm and with a few soothing words, finally managed to slip the bit into place. Next, he bridled the grey mare, but he wasted no time on saddles. He led the horses out of the barn as they pulled and danced around him unaccustomed to excitement and skiddish at the sight of Ty's horse approaching in a dead run.