The Chosen Brother

The sounds of battle echoed throughout the valley. It had been a quiet morning, the sparse grass blowing gently in a breeze from the ocean. The sky was clear, the birds loud as they flew about catching bugs. A few sheep, raggedy and dirty, grazed absently. Even the dogs scattered about the property frolicked, their tongues lolling. Every being took advantage of the breezy morning before the sun rose high and the heat wrapped everything in stickiness.

And then shouts and chaos broke the idyll. The sheep scattered, birds fled into the air, and the dogs barked and snarled as they circled seven brothers tumbling around the ground. Fists grasped long branches, broom handles, whatever they’d been able to get a hold of for their fight.

Their ages varied. The oldest, Kerr, was nearly a man. Another summer and he’d be gone, off to forge his own path or more likely fight in the rebellion blighting the continent. The youngest, Paca, was barely six, his young voice raised with the rest, both tiny hands grasping a rolling pin, which he swung awkwardly at his fourteen-year-old sibling, Cale.

Cale – not the youngest or oldest, but somewhere in the middle - barely missed being struck by the rebound of Paca’s weak swing.

“Watch it, you little idiot!” he snarled as he fought off his oldest brother, Kerr. Kerr had grown further this past year and now stood two inches taller than even their pa. All the boys were big for their ages, all bore shaggy brown hair and mud-colored eyes. All except Paca, that was. Their ma had died shortly after his birth, and he hadn’t thrived the way the rest of them had.

“Don’t. Call. Me. That.” Each word was punctuated with a smack from the little boy’s rolling pin. He hit Cale repeatedly. The smacks did not hurt, but they were annoying as little gnats flying about. Cale barely missed being struck by Kerr’s branch. He’d never told them where he’d found the massive thing, just showed up one morning brandishing it as one would a grand sword.

Kerr may have missed him, but Trey certainly didn’t. At fourteen, he was still scrawny but had the height advantage against his smaller brother. Cale howled as a mop handle landed on his head, knocking him to the side.

Angrily, he turned to the opponent he could defeat with no trouble. He wasn’t a fool; he’d been taught to only enter fights you could win, and he couldn’t yet win against Trey. Kerr had been trying to teach him a few moves, but it was impossible to think in the middle of the free-for-all.

So instead, he turned to Paca with fury. Throwing his stick to the side, he pushed the little boy. Hard. Paca fell backwards. The rolling pin…well, it rolled away. Paca opened his mouth but before he could scream, Cale launched himself on the tiny body and pinned him to the ground. He pushed his brother’s face to the side, to the dirt barely covered in grass.

The wailing started. Cale said a word his ma would not approve of and pinched the boy, but Paca was too busy to notice. His little face was scrunched up, tears falling in rivulets down his nose. Before Cale could do anything else, he was hauled away by massive arms and thrown to the ground on his stomach.

Now his face was the one being ground into the dirt. He gritted his teeth and tried to fight, but a heavy knee kept him in place.

“You’re always picking on Paca, and I’m sick of it.” Kerr pressed Cale’s face deeper into the dirt. Dust invaded his nose and mouth, but he couldn’t get enough air to cough. He was surrounded by earth. Terror built as his lungs protested.

Cale could hear Paca, Trey, Bren, Rist, and Telly laughing – but his mind grew muddled and a headache throbbed from his predicament. He’d stopped struggling when he felt a surge of something – something powerful from within. He grabbed at it in desperation and flung the energy up towards Kerr, who flew backwards with a shout.

His brothers were silent. Kerr sputtered and twisted up painfully while Rist loomed over Cale, who still hadn’t managed to get further than on his hands and knees. When he glanced up, it was to see a crooked smile on the other boy’s face. Trey held a hand out to help him up and once he was standing, Kerr stalked towards him. He stopped a foot away and looked Cale up and down before a grin split his face.

“Well, little brother. Looks like you’ve finally found your magic.” He clapped Cale on the back.

Elation washed through Cale. Finally! He’d been waiting so long. The older boys had been magic wielders for years.

“Aw, no fair!” Paca spat before he turned to run back to the house. Telly and Bren, the 9-year-old twins, looked at each other and then took off after him.

Cale found himself surrounded by the rest of his siblings as they all turned to follow. Someone clapped him on the back, but he was so happy he wasn’t sure which.

Their home was at the top of a hill, a ramshackle thing that had once been painted white. So absorbed were the boys in their revelry, they almost didn’t hear the echoing call of a bugle until shadows darkened their faces.

Cale looked up to see riders milling about the house in silver and yellow Imperial armor. He froze, but his brothers had yet to see the soldiers and plowed into his back, propelling him several more feet. Before any of them could react, they were surrounded by the imperials. Cale’s arms were wrenched behind his back, and he was pushed towards his parents, who were already bound and on their knees.

A man Cale guessed was the leader stood before his pa. Another man, not in armor but instead wearing a plain brown tunic and pants, hovered behind them with his arms crossed.

“Do not lie to me,” the soldier spat. “Someone here has magic. We know it; Hink there sensed someone using it just moments ago.”

Pa’s eyes met Cale’s, but he clamped his lips shut and ignored the questions.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Kerr break from the soldiers and run towards their parents. He was surrounded and thrown to the ground amidst shouting.

The head soldier ignored the ruckus. “Is it one of your children? All of them?” Ma knelt on the ground, tears streaming down her face, but she only shook her head. Pa raised his chin defiantly.

The soldier shook his head in disgust and motioned to the men holding Cale’s parents. Quicker than anyone could blink, they each ran their blades over their captive’s throats. All seven children surged as they yelled their fury, the two oldest breaking free of the captors. Kerr tackled one of the soldiers to the ground, fists flying. Telly wrestled with another for control of an axe. Cale broke away briefly and shoved two men out of the way in an effort to get to his parents. He felt that power inside building, and without hesitation he thrust it towards the imperials. A few of them staggered, and then a few more were toppled as his brothers also threw their hands out to attack with their magic.

He had not gotten very far when pain exploded in his head. As if from a distance, Cale saw the others doubled over in pain. The man in regular clothes sauntered towards them, one hand lazily raised.

The strange not-a-soldier stepped in front of him and stood a moment studying him. He then moved on and did the same with each of his brothers.

With a grim smile, the man turned to the soldier. “It’s all of them.” His voice held satisfaction. “What a boon they will be at Wizard’s Tower.”

He’d barely finished speaking before they were gathered up and carted away.

_____________________________________

The stink was all Cale could think about. Not the unending darkness, nor the shouts and quiet crying that echoed through the corridors of the prison. He couldn’t tell how long he’d been here alone in a cell so small he couldn’t stand fully upright. There were no windows to let in even the smallest amount of light. He hugged his knees and stared into nothingness as rage grew with every passing moment.

He couldn’t use magic. Every time he even reached for it, a blinding pain immobilized his entire body. He didn’t know where his brothers were, though he thought maybe he heard them occasionally.

He would kill these Imperials someday. All of them. He would leave this place that smelled of rot and death and he would track them all down. The need to do so overrode his fear, his hunger, and his grief.

How long would they keep him locked up? He knew now, after lots of thought, the man in plain clothes had been a wizard. Probably one of the specialized wizards called Seekers who existed to track down all magic-wielders. They would kill the girls and drag the boys to the Tower. But when? Would he see his brothers again when he got there?

His thoughts drifted in and out with his consciousness. Although he hadn’t received anything more damaging than a scratch or bruise from the ordeal, he was starving and tired and he dozed often.

He was doing this when he heard shouts and the unmistakable clangs of swordplay. He tried to stand but faltered and sprawled on the dirt floor. There he stayed until the sounds grew closer and then…and then the sounds were at his door.

Cale blinked as light streamed in, but it was quickly dimmed by the shadow of a large man. He blinked again when the man bent so he wouldn’t hit his head on the low ceiling. In the end, he ended up on the floor in front of Cale. He swung his legs around and sat cross-legged, which was a feat considering he was in full armor with a long sword in his hand. He set the sword down and simply looked at Cale, sweat pouring down his ruddy face.

Cale had watched this maneuver and waited until the man was settled before he launched a weak attach. He lunged up, hands outstretched towards the man’s throat.

With a chuckle, he was calmly swatted back into the dirt. Cale looked harder at this strange man and noticed a thin crown circled red hair.

“Who?” His voice was harsh from disuse.

The man smiled, and it was a real smile. The kind that showed in the eyes.

“I’m King Buclear, boy. And you have a choice to make.”

Cale glanced at the open door uncertainly. Who was this man who claimed the name of king? And where were the guards? There were still sounds from outside his cell, but they were no longer the sounds of fighting. They were the sounds of liberation.

“I don’t understand. You helped me,” he said to the strange king.

“Aye. And as I said, you have a choice to make. You can join me in my fight to free Resilee from the Empire. Or you are free to go wherever you wish.”

Skeptical, Cale pulled himself into a sitting position that mirrored Buclear. “You would let me go free? Really?”

“I would. I do not abide servitude. But I would be honored if you would fight by my side.” He nodded at Cale. “I can have you trained so you become as powerful or more powerful than the wizards at the Tower.”

Well then, there was no choice at all, was there? Cale had every intention of killing Imperials, and here was his chance to do that on a silver platter. He grinned at King Buclear and held out his hand.

“Let’s get started,” he said firmly.