Chapter 1

Prologue

            In the sky shone a blue crescent moon, barely a sliver, the stars overhead were bright and still. To the west the sky was a light purple as the sun’s last light streaked across the long expanse of space. A warm wind blew in from the North and carried upon it the wings of fate. A stray cat prowling through a great city looking for a small meal to hold him over till morning didn’t know what was about to happen tonight. He stopped to sniff at a tempting bit of the garbage outside of a grand castles gates when the gates flew open and two hooded horsemen rode threw the open gates each carrying a small bundle in their arms. The cat watched with unblinking yellow eyes as the figures turned away from each other one heading West the other turning toward the North. When the riders were gone the cat turned back to its garbage and began to feast unaware of exactly what it was it had seen.

             A tall and imposing figure stood alone in the room of the highest tower of the castle, staring after the two horsemen. From behind him a door opened and through it came a man wearing a white tunic. At his side he carried a short sword, while an incredible green sword was in a sheath on his back. The man came and stood next to the giant figure at the window and watched the horses with him ‘til neither one could be seen.

              The man with the two swords finally turned to the tall man and spoke. “You truly believe they will be okay Hanz? Growing up without a mother or a father?”

              The giant man, Hanz, kept his eyes upon the horizon as he answered the question posed by the man with two swords. “They will do better out there alone than here with each other. Don’t worry Thidrial, they will be fine. Pantheos will be raised in the west by the High-elves and become a strong warrior, and Swaun will be raised in the north and become a great hero among all who dwell there. They will both be fine until the foretold day arrives.”

              “I am not worried about Pantheos in the west, since there is little danger. Swaun will also be fine, I am sure of that.” Said Thidrial.

             “Really!,” Exclaimed the giant figure now finally taking his gaze from the horizon. “You think he will be safe in the North? That place is crawling with some of the most dangerous creatures in the kingdom. Especially Woralks, you know how dangerous they can be.”

              “Yes I know. Remember I was there when they were created.” said Thidrial grimly.

              “So was I Thidrial. But how can you be so sure that he will be fine in the North surrounded by all those dangers?” Hanz asked.

              “Easy,” said Thidrial turning to leave the tower, “I am sending you to watch over him.”

              Hanz stared after Thidrial his face quickly reddening in anger. “You can’t be serious! I’m a Murtack not a nursemaid!” Hanz shouted as Thidrial’s back as he left the tower. “What am I going to do for all those years?”

              Thidrial stopped as he opened the door to turn around and smile at Hanz. “I don’t know; become a doctor or a blacksmith or something. Use your imagination. Oh. Don’t forget the swords.” With these last remarks Thidrial closed the door behind him and left.

              The tall Murtack, Hanz, turned back to the horizon muttering curses and profanities under his breath. He eventually raised his gaze up to the sliver of a moon. As he gazed at it he started speaking the prophecy that had started this whole thing.

“On a dark night with a blue sliver moon in the night sky. Two boys will be born, sons of Men, and of dark, and of high. One will be raised in darkness and he will be friendless and alone. The other will wield darkness and light in his hands, and have power all his own. But within the wielder of darkness and light, in one bird, two will reside. Allied will be the two within, and together they will share the pride. The wielder although strong will not be alone on this great quest. But will be aided by a guardian of stone taught by the first to be the best. The wielder and the one raised in darkness, shall for many years not meet. But when the two finally fight, the dark cat will surely know his defeat. As the Bird lets his swords fall then darkness and light will combine. And Balance will rule the kingdom, for many eons of time.”

               Hanz lowered his gaze back down to the horizon. It was he who had read this from the Book of Prophecy, and how he hoped it was right. For if he was, then the wielder of light and darkness was Swaun and Swaun was going to be the one that would become Balance, a powerful warrior, whose birth has been foretold for over a thousand years.

           He turned around and prepared to leave the tower and follow after Swaun. He had few things to pack. But he only cared about two packages, one lumpy and odd shaped wrapped in a strange fabric and the other a long package wrapped in the same kind of fabric. He started to stroke the side of them as he whispered

            “Soon. If I am right then you will be with Swaun soon.” He then threw his cloak on and whispered again. “Now North to Bearshead,”

             He left the tower turning only once to see what had been his home for nearly two hundred years before continuing and leaving his life behind.

Chapter 1

               Swaun huddled down in a hollow beneath the trunk of a large tree. He had been sitting in the same position for the past three hours, his eyes, never stopping their endless quest‒eyes as blue as the sky on a spring morning. He flicked his head, allowing his long white-blond hair to move away from his ear and into a more comfortable position along his back and neck.

               Eighteen years had passed since Swaun had been mysteriously found as a baby on the steps of a villager’s house one morning. Since that day, life had passed uneventfully for him. He had a reasonably decent life. He wasn’t beaten, whipped, starved, or treated horribly in any way. But for eighteen years, the entire village had a hand in raising him.

               Swaun was passed around from home to home and found himself with a new family about every three months. He made the most of his strange life. Whenever he came to a new family, he did all he could to learn whatever they might teach him. When he was in Barad’s house, the carpenter taught him how to carve and make staffs and bows. When he was with Hanz, the village doctor and blacksmith, he learned how to shoe horses and make weapons, as well as to make healing pastes from medicinal plants.

            But his favorite house was with Joseph, the bow master. Joseph used to live in the woods alone so he had to develop a great skill with the bow. He taught Swaun all of the secrets of a master bowman until Swaun surpassed him in ability and knowledge of the bow. Joseph’s ranking fell to second greatest archer in the village. Swaun had a natural ability and everyone, even Joseph, bowed to his expertise. By the time he was twelve, Swaun was winning every archery contest in the village. Feeling a tap on his shoulder, Swan turned to find his best friend, Brick, sitting in the hollow next to him.

             Swaun cursed silently as he shook his head. He wasn’t supposed to lose focus. He trained his eyes back on the field that he and Brick were watching. Brick was the only other orphan in the village. Hanz, the blacksmith, found him on his doorstep a short time after Swaun appeared. Brick was also passed around from home to home and he, too, worked hard to learn all that he could.

             Brick and Swaun looked about as different as boys could possibly get. Swaun was tall and Brick was short. Swaun’s hair was long and blond while Brick had short brown locks. Swaun had blue eyes and Brick’s were a steely gray. But both boys were intelligent, quick learners and each had a desire to prove their worth.

             Swaun sat back and began to think about his life in the village again. After being in the village for twelve years, he and Brick grew tired of being passed from family to family. The two boys came together and pooled all the money they had from contests and odd jobs and bought a little cottage on the border of the village for the two of them.

             Brick and Swaun were able to have a relatively nice life thanks to their skills which helped them earn money from the villagers. They could both carve, creating beautiful staffs and bows for the villagers. They also competed and usually won all the archery contests. Swaun looked at the bow in his hand and let his eyes pass over the designs he had carved upon it. He and Brick earned several pieces of gold and silver a month thanks to their carving and other skills, but their greatest amount of gold came from hunting.

             The two boys went into the forest for days at a time, bringing back many pounds of meat to sell to the villagers. The village butcher, Hyer, paid one silver coin for every five pounds and one gold coin for every fifty pounds. By selling their meat to Hyer, the boys made a good deal of money.

            Swaun looked over at Brick, sitting beside him. They were both eighteen and in good health. They were strong and fit boys. No one in the village could match Swaun in strength or Brick in wit. Brick might not have the Herculean strength that Swaun possessed but he was intelligent and could insult someone with such eloquence that the person didn’t even know they were being insulted.

             Brick tapped him again and Swaun looked up. Brick silently notched an arrow to his bow, pointing with the arrow tip the direction he wanted Swaun to look. Swaun followed his lead and quietly notched an arrow to his own bow. On the far eastern side of the field, a large patch of grass moved against the wind. Their quarry was entering the field. Swaun and Brick carefully aimed their bows and waited with baited breath to see what creature it might be. Either boy could hit whatever it was with one shot but there was a greater fear lurking than simply missing their target. They weren’t the only predators in the forest. Bears, mountain lions, and other wild creatures could be far more terrifying.

              The grass parted and a large buck entered the clearing. It walked slowly, regally. Following the buck was a herd of nearly two dozen does and fawns. They took cautious, calculated steps into the clearing, ears swiveling, listening for any sign of predators. The boys ducked lower into the vegetation. Finally all the deer were in the clearing and eating. The boys sat back to wait. Either one could hit any deer that they wanted from this distance, but they didn’t want to have to walk all the way across the field to retrieve their kill.

               Suddenly the large buck and several of the does raised their ears and noses and looked around the field. Swaun leaned close to Brick. “What do you think they hear?”

               Brick drew his bow back. “I don’t know. Do you think they know something that we don’t?”

               Before Swaun could answer, he caught the scent of what was frightening the deer. It was a potent and sickening smell. It was the stench of blood, corpses and infected wounds. It was the scent that accompanied death. Swaun had smelled death several times. But he had only experienced it this strongly once before. While hunting in the woods, he came across a dead bear. It had been torn open and eaten by a larger, more terrifying predator, a monster that Swaun saw retreating through the woods after he found the bear, a Woralk.

               Swaun pulled his bow and arrow back and aimed it at the field, slowly scanning the range for a target. He and Brick slid back under the log so they were better hidden. If there were Woralks hunting, Swaun didn’t want them to know humans were also in the woods. Woralks, although once human themselves, now hated all humans and Elves. They saw humans and Elves as imperfect and the Woralks and took it upon themselves to kill them whenever they got the chance. Swaun noticed a Woralk break cover from the long grass at the northern end of the field and crouch down, preparing to spring.

            Swaun studied the Woralk, seeing the entire creature for the first time. Swaun had heard hundreds of stories about Woralks‒tales terrifying and evil, of how they had been created with dark magic; but hearing the stories did not amount to seeing one in the flesh. Woralks are the most evil, wicked creatures that have ever walked on Earth. Swaun looked over the massive wolf-like creature. He knew that they walked like men on two legs but this one was on all four. He supposed that was how they hunted. Thick, yet sleek, black fur lined its muscular body. Swaun saw it raise its front paw and move forward half a step. It had fingers and a thumb like a man but each digit ended with an inch long claw. Now he knew how the Woralk had beaten the bear. He noticed the amount of muscle built up along the Woralk’s arms and body, indicating strength almost as great as that of an Ogre or a troll.

               The Woralk’s head was even more terrifying than its body. Swaun held his bow tighter. With a head larger than a regular wolf’s and a longer muzzle, the beast pulled back its lip, revealing dozens of razor sharp teeth. Its two main canines were over an inch and a half long.

               Near the edge of the field, the Woralk left the cover of the long grass and ran at the deer full speed. Swaun looked around the field at the chaos that the Woralk caused and began to raise his bow to shoot it when he stopped. His arm wouldn’t raise any higher, something was wrong. No matter how hard he tried he could not lift his arm. Brick raised his bow and aimed it at the Woralk that was trying to catch the big buck.

               “I’ll get him.” Brick said.

               “Brick! Stop!” Swaun called, but it was too late. Brick had already released his arrow. Swaun had finally realized what had caused him to stop, what wouldn’t let him fire. The reason fear trickled down his spine. The knowledge he had known subconsciously that had kept him from firing his arrow. . .

          Woralks hunted in packs.