The Name Of A Sorcerer

The evening sun bathed the emerald hills in gold, hundreds of sheep grazed lazily beneath the open sky.

A young man sat atop a weathered boulder, and a wooden staff rested across his shoulders.

His dark hair danced in the breeze, and his sharp blue eyes wandered toward the distant mountains.

This was Armand, and he was seventeen years old.

He was weak, and he was powerless, and he was considered a disappointment.

In the Kingdom of Valoria, every child awakened an elemental affinity before their fifteenth birthday, and they received Fire, Water, Earth, or Air — one of the four blessings granted by the Dragon Gods.

Everyone awakened, but Armand did not.

He had no magic, and he had no strength, and he had no future.

To his father, he was little more than an extra mouth to feed, and to his four older brothers, he was a joke.

While his brothers trained from sunrise to sunset with swords in their hands, Armand spent his days herding sheep.

It was a lonely life, and it was a miserable life.

Then the ground began to tremble, and it went thud, thud, thud.

Armand frowned, and the sheep lifted their heads uneasily.

He climbed onto the highest rock, and he looked toward the road leading into the village.

His eyes widened, for a crimson banner bearing a silver dragon fluttered proudly in the wind.

Beneath it rode dozens of armored warriors mounted on magnificent horses, and their polished crimson armor blazed beneath the sunlight.

"The Red Keep..." Armand whispered, and his heart nearly stopped.

The Royal Knights were the strongest warriors in the kingdom, and people said every member of the Red Keep had slain monsters, protected kingdoms, and stood against dragons.

And today they were riding toward his village, so he shouted, "They're recruiting!"

Without another thought, Armand abandoned the sheep, and he sprinted downhill as fast as his legs could carry him.

He burst through the wooden door of his home, and he was breathing heavily.

"Father!" he shouted "They're here! The Red Keep is here!"

His father looked up from sharpening a blade, and he asked, "What did you say?"

"The Royal Knights! They're coming to recruit warriors!" Armand said, and for a brief moment the entire house fell silent.

Then his four brothers exploded into cheers, and they said, "They finally came!" and "I've waited years for this!" and "This is my chance!"

Their father stood immediately, and pride filled his weathered face.

"My sons..." he said "Today, one of you may become a Royal Knight."

He turned toward Armand, but there was not a hint of warmth, and he said, "Go polish your brothers' swords and armor."

Armand froze, and he asked, "...What?"

"You heard me," his father replied, and Armand said, "I don't want to polish swords."

The room became silent, and his father narrowed his eyes.

"What did you say?" he asked, and Armand swallowed.

"I... I want to become a knight too," he said, and for one heartbeat nobody spoke.

Then laughter erupted throughout the house, and his eldest brother nearly dropped his sword.

"You?" they said "A knight?" and "You can't even awaken magic!"

Another brother smirked, and he said, "You'd probably faint before you swung a sword."

The youngest laughed so hard that tears formed in his eyes, and their father took one slow step toward Armand.

His face hardened, and he said, "You shame this family every time you speak."

"You have no magic, and you have no talent, and you have no strength," he continued, and "The only thing you're good for is watching sheep."

He pointed toward the door, and he said, "So stop dreaming, and go back to the hill."

Armand felt his chest tighten, and his vision blurred.

Without saying another word, he turned and ran, and he ignored their laughter and the tears running down his cheeks and the ache in his heart.

He climbed onto the roof of the old barn overlooking the village, and from there he watched the Red Keep enter through the village gates.

Hundreds of villagers gathered around them in excitement, and the leader of the knights dismounted his massive black horse.

He was a giant of a man clad in crimson armor engraved with a silver dragon, and a long scar ran across his left eye.

His piercing gaze swept across the crowd, and then in a voice that echoed through the entire village, he declared, "Young men of this village... where are the warriors?"

The crowd instantly fell silent, and the leader's booming voice echoed through the village square.

"Young men of this village... step forward!" he commanded, and for a heartbeat no one moved.

Then Armand's four brothers marched proudly from the crowd, and they were joined by nearly thirty other young men, and each tried to stand taller than the next with hands resting confidently on the hilts of their swords.

The Red Keep knights exchanged amused glances, and one of them snorted, "This is it?"

Another shook his head, and he said, "I've seen farmhands with broader shoulders."

A third knight laughed openly, and he said, "Look at them. They pose like heroes, but they still have milk on their lips."

The young men stiffened, and their faces burned with embarrassment.

The captain slowly walked past the line, and he inspected each recruit with a critical eye.

He stopped in front of Armand's eldest brother, and the brother's confident smile slowly faded beneath the captain's piercing stare.

"So you're supposed to be the strongest among them?" the captain asked, and the brother nodded proudly.

"I am, sir," he said, and the captain reached out and flicked the young man's forehead with a single finger.

The force sent him stumbling backward, and he nearly fell into the dirt.

Several Red Keep knights burst into laughter, and one said between laughs, "Strong? Our squires hit harder than that."

The captain continued down the line, and he was shaking his head.

"Pathetic," he said "You have spirit, but spirit alone doesn't win battles."

His eyes swept over the recruits one final time, and he said, "Still... the kingdom needs fresh blood."

He pointed toward the large armored chariots waiting behind the knights, and he ordered, "All of you, get in."

The disappointed expressions on the young men's faces vanished instantly, and they rushed toward the chariots with excitement replacing humiliation.

Armand's brothers climbed aboard with wide smiles, and they were already imagining themselves wearing the crimson armor of the Red Keep.

The captain mounted the lead chariot, and he shouted, "Move out!"

The horses stamped the ground, and just as the caravan began to leave, a shout rang across the village: "WAIT!"

Every head turned, and Armand leaped from the roof of the barn and landed awkwardly before sprinting toward the departing knights.

His father covered his face in shame, and he muttered, "What is that idiot doing...?"

Armand stopped before the captain's horse, and he was breathing heavily.

The captain looked down at him, and he asked, "What do you want, boy?"

Armand swallowed his fear, and he said, "I... I want to become a knight."

There was silence, and then the entire company erupted into laughter.

One knight slapped another on the shoulder, and he said, "Did you hear that?"

Another wiped tears from his eyes, and he said, "The wind could blow this one away!"

The captain looked Armand up and down, and he grinned.

"You're skinny," he said, and he leaned closer.

"You're short," he added, and another wave of laughter spread through the knights.

The captain chuckled, and he said, "What a terrifying warrior. I'm certain our enemies will throw down their weapons and flee the moment they see you."

Even some villagers couldn't hold back their laughter, and Armand lowered his head as his cheeks burned.

The captain waved a dismissive hand, and he said, "Go home, kid."

He turned and placed one boot on the step of his chariot, but Armand's voice trembled and did not break.

"...I think you're making a mistake," he said, and the captain froze.

Slowly he turned back, and his smile vanished.

The warmth in his eyes disappeared, and it was replaced by the cold authority of a commander who had led men through countless battles.

"A mistake?" he asked, and his voice became dangerously quiet.

"Do you question the judgment of the Red Keep?" he asked, and Armand immediately realized what he had said.

"I... I didn't mean—" he stammered, the captain stepped down from the chariot.

"By military law, insulting the judgment of a Royal Knight earns twenty lashes," he said, and the color drained from Armand's face.

"P-Please..." he begged, he fell to one knee.

"I wasn't trying to insult you," he said, and "I just... I really want to become a knight."

The village fell silent, and the captain stared at the trembling boy for several long seconds.

Then the anger on his face slowly melted into amusement, and he sighed.

"Stand up," he ordered, Armand obeyed.

The captain folded his arms, and he said, "You've got courage."

He poked Armand's chest with one finger, and he said, "But courage won't stop a sword."

He looked at the boy's thin arms and narrow shoulders, and he shook his head.

"Eat more," he said, and "Get bigger," and "Grow stronger."

He climbed back into the chariot, and he said over his shoulder, "When the Red Keep returns to this village, if you've become a man worthy of the armor, I promise I'll take you with me."

Hope flashed across Armand's face, but before he could speak, the captain cracked the reins.

The horses surged forward, and one by one the crimson chariots rolled away from the village and disappeared in a cloud of dust beneath the evening sun.

Armand remained standing in the middle of the road, and he watched until the last crimson banner vanished beyond the hills.

Before the dust raised by the Red Keep's chariots had settled, a rough hand seized Armand by the collar, and his father yanked him around so violently that he nearly lost his footing.

"You disgrace!" his father shouted, and the entire village watched in silence.

His father's face burned with rage, and he asked, "Do you know what you've done?"

"You humiliated this family in front of the Red Keep!" he said, and "They laughed at us because of you!"

Armand lowered his head, and he whispered, "...I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" his father repeated, and he shoved him to the ground.

"Sorry won't wash away my shame!" he yelled, and he pointed toward the hills overlooking the village.

"Don't come back," he said, and Armand looked up in disbelief.

"F-Father..." he said, but his father cut him off.

"I said don't come back!" he roared, and "I'd rather have no son than a son who embarrasses me before the kingdom!"

The words struck harder than any blade, and Armand slowly climbed to his feet.

His eyes brimmed with tears, and without another word he turned and ran.

He ran until the laughter of the villagers faded, and he ran until the houses disappeared behind the hills, and he ran until only the wind remained.

He collapsed beside the flock of sheep he had abandoned earlier that day, and he sat on a small stone and buried his face in his hands.

"So that was my chance..." he whispered through trembling lips, "My only chance to have a better life..."

The evening breeze carried away his words, and after several minutes Armand wiped his eyes and forced himself to stand.

"I should at least finish today's work," he said, he looked over the flock.

"As always..." he said, he began counting.

"One... two... three..." he counted, and he got to "...Seventy-three... seventy-four."

He frowned, and he said, "No..."

He counted again, and he did it slower this time.

"...Seventy-four," he said, and his heart skipped a beat.

"There should be seventy-five," he realized, he searched the hillside.

There was nothing, panic spread across his face.

"If Father finds out..." he thought, but he didn't dare finish the thought.

Dropping to one knee, he searched the soft earth, and he spotted a trail of fresh hoofprints leading away from the flock.

Relief washed over him, and he said, "There you are..."

He followed the tracks, and at first they wound through the grasslands.

Then they reached a line of ancient black trees, and Armand froze.

Before him stood the entrance to Dharkh, and it was the Dark Forest and the oldest forest in the kingdom.

It was a place mothers used to frighten children into obedience, and it was a place where hunters vanished, and it was a place where sunlight itself seemed afraid to enter.

Its twisted trees reached toward the sky like skeletal fingers, and a cold mist slithered across the forest floor.

Everyone knew one rule, it was to never enter Dharkh after sunset.

Because once darkness fell, the creatures hiding within began to hunt, so Armand swallowed hard.

"I have to find that sheep..." he said, and he took one cautious step forward and then another.

The sounds of the village disappeared behind him, and only silence remained.

The deeper he walked, the darker the forest became, and branches clawed at his clothes.

Strange whispers drifted between the trees, and every instinct screamed at him to turn back.

Then he heard it, and it was crunch, crunch, bones breaking.

Armand's blood turned cold, and he slowly stepped around a massive tree.

His breath caught, for his missing sheep hung limply between the jaws of a towering beast.

The creature stood nearly nine feet tall on four muscular legs, and matted black fur covered its body, and crimson eyes glowed in the darkness.

Curved fangs protruded from its mouth, and blood dripped onto the leaves below, and it was tearing into the sheep as though it weighed nothing.

"N-No..." Armand whispered, but before fear could stop him he shouted, "LEAVE IT ALONE!"

His shout echoed through the forest, and the beast slowly lifted its head.

Its glowing eyes locked onto him, and for a moment everything became still.

Then the creature opened its jaws, and the mangled sheep fell to the ground with a sickening thud.

It no longer cared about its meal, for it had found something far more interesting: Armand.

The beast released a thunderous roar that shook the trees, and it charged.

Armand grabbed the thickest branch he could find, and he swung with all his strength.

CRACK! The branch shattered against the creature's skull, but it didn't even flinch.

One massive paw slammed into Armand's chest, and BOOM! he was hurled through the air and crashed into a tree hard enough to splinter the trunk.

Pain exploded through his body, he struggled to breathe, but still he forced himself back to his feet.

"I... won't..." he gasped, the beast attacked again.

Its claws ripped across his shoulder, and it sent him tumbling through the dirt.

Blood soaked his torn clothes, and his vision blurred, and every bone in his body screamed in agony.

The monster stalked toward him, and its jaws slowly opened.

"So..." Armand whispered weakly "This is how I die..."

The beast lunged, but at that exact instant something deep within Armand awakened.

It was a pulse, it was ancient, it was wild, power unlike anything he had ever felt flooded every vein in his body.

His heartbeat thundered, and his eyes snapped open, and the world around him seemed to slow.

Without thinking, Armand caught the creature's jaws with both hands, and the beast froze.

Its crimson eyes widened, and Armand whispered in almost disbelief, "So... strong..."

With a roar that shook the forest itself, he forced the jaws apart, and the creature howled.

Armand drove his fist into its throat, and then another, and then another, and each blow carried impossible strength.

The ground trembled beneath them, and the beast staggered backward.

Before it could recover, Armand grabbed one of its horns, and he twisted with every ounce of his newfound power— CRACK! — and its neck snapped.

The monstrous body crashed lifelessly onto the forest floor, and silence returned.

Armand stared at his blood-covered hands, and he asked, "What... what just happened to me?"

A slow clap echoed through the trees, and footsteps followed that were measured and calm and unhurried.

Armand spun around, and an elderly man emerged from the shadows leaning on a staff woven from living vines.

His long silver robes shimmered with emerald runes, and his deep green eyes seemed older than the forest itself.

The leaves bent toward him as though recognizing their master, he was the King's Druid and the most revered mage in the kingdom.

He studied Armand for a long moment then a faint smile appeared on his weathered face.

"So..." he said "It seems I wasn't wrong after all."