The Phoenix Song: Wind

By Jonathan Fok

Fifteen-year-old Ryan Constave feels like a total geek. He has lived his entire life in the shadow of his older sister and his best friend, both of whom are smart, attractive, and athletic. The only thing Ryan feels like he has going for him is his straight-as-an-arrow moral compass, but even that seems to get him into trouble. One day, while trying to avoid some of his bully classmates, Ryan visits his elderly friend, Aiden, and hears a story about the Six Elementsmagical objects that are said to grant remarkable powers to those who wield all of them.

That same night, Ryan is blinded by a white light that transports him to a mystical world filled with wizards, elves, and talking horses. In this world, danger awaits around every corner. In a desperate bid to return home alive, Ryan enlists the help of two half-elf, half-human allies, Illian and Alantria, who serve as both Ryans protectors and teachers.

As Ryan sets out to find the Six Elements and use their power to send him home, he learns that that the fate of this strange new world and its inhabitants now rests entirely on his shoulders. But with his newfound power, Ryan is also faced with a dilemma: stay true to his moralswhich have brought him nothing but miseryor abandon that path in favor of seizing what he deserves.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 4, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462056477

Jonathan Fok

Jonathan Fok is an avid reader of fiction and fantasy novels and has been writing short stories and novels since he was fifteen. He often uses his own life experiences within his stories. A mechanical engineer, he currently resides in Edmonton, Alberta, with his dog, Sasha.

Book preview

Prologue

Four centuries ago

Arturo Cagahd took a deep breath and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun and the cool autumn breeze flow through his hair. From the Citadel’s sentry outpost, Arturo gazed over the forest surrounding the Elfin Embassy in Felwood. The lush green trees swayed gently in the breeze and birds sang happily in the distance. On the far end of the sentry walkout to his right, two guards, one elfin one human, peered into the horizon. The elf appeared to have spotted something in the distance and muttered quietly to his human counterpart. The man nodded to the elf before smartly marching towards Arturo.

Sir, the emissary is approaching.

Relishing his surroundings and the calming serenity that it brought, Arturo took a deep breath before grabbing his armor’s helmet. Nodding his thanks to the two sentry guards, Arturo quickly descended the spiral staircase leading down into the Citadel. His armored boots striking the marble floor with a sharp crack with each step, Arturo tucked his helmet under his arm, using the hilt of his sword for extra support.

Dressed in polished full plate mail, Arturo’s steps were slightly clumsy. It had been a very long time since he had donned his armor and he had forgotten how heavy it was. To his right, corridors splintered off one another, some leading to kitchens, others to guardrooms and sleeping quarters. Flanking the entrance of each corridor was a set of beautiful woven tapestries hand crafted by the most skilled human and elfin artisans in the land, each image depicting a romanticized feat of strength accomplished by either man or elf. The entire history of the alliance between elf and man could be seen on the tapestries.

To Arturo’s left overlooked the Citadel’s Grand Hall, already buzzing with activity. The main table had been brought into the center of the hall and young stewards were bustling about, bring out wine and food. Near the front of the hall, two lines of men and elves dressed in identical plate armor sets stood at attention as they awaited inspection.

Walking past the sleeping quarters, Arturo’s eyes never wavered as they continued to stare straight ahead. Ignoring salutes and nods of submission from housemaids and stewards Arturo marched forward, trying not to stumble as he descended yet another spiral staircase and stepped out into the Great Hall. His Sergeant immediately stepped forward and saluted.

Sir the men are prepared for your inspection.

Arturo nodded in acknowledgement as he quickly glanced down the line of Honor Guards. To be chosen as an Honor Guard within the Citadel of Felwood was a privilege given as a reward to recognize those who have dedicated their lives to protecting the free people. This distinction however, was rarely gifted to able-bodied warriors who would be more use in the battlefield and as such, the Citadel Honor Guards were composed of warriors who were no longer capable of fighting on the front lines. Even the ageless elves that given such a position were those who were injured in battle and would be unable to fight effectively again.

Inform Lord Tasobs and Lady Arseud that the emissary from Borlethon is approaching and they should be here shortly, Arturo said without glancing at the Sergeant. The Honor Guard Captain continued to scrutinize his men, checking the polish of their armor.

Yes sir Arturo’s Sergeant responded smartly as he saluted and disappeared up another spiral staircase. Turning his attention back to the men standing at attention before him, Arturo cleared his throat.

I do not have to tell you the gravity of the situation. Tension between elves and men are at the highest it has ever been. This meeting is to broker a truce between our two races and Felwood was chosen as a neutral ground as it symbolizes all that we can accomplish if our two races work together. Honor your ancestors and yourselves.

Like true military men, the guards said nothing and Arturo nodded his approval as his eyes swept down the line of men. Despite their injuries or age, all of the guards stood at attention, their faces set with a determined look. These were true warriors, soldiers who had dedicated their life to the service and protection of their kingdom. They would not disappoint him.

Dismissed.

The Honor Guard quickly turned and marched to their respective places on either side of the hall, each of them holding an elfin or human standard proudly. Glancing around the room Arturo took stock of his surroundings. Like the upper hallways, the Great Hall was made of white marble. The floor was lined with a pristine red carpet and a silver chandelier hung from the ceiling. While the Citadel of Felwood was not the largest or most expensive Citadels in the land, its intimate nature made it one of the most extravagant.

With his final preparations complete, Arturo marched to the main doors and without a word slipped outside into the shining sun. Descending the steps, Arturo turned and gazed at the silent stone sentinels of elf and man standing in front of the Citadel. As Captain of the Felwood guard, Arturo could trace his bloodline to the very same human King and Queen immortalized in stone standing before him. His ancestors brokered a truce between elf and man and it was fitting that Arturo be present for another meeting between the two races.

Gently placing his helmet on the soft mossy ground, Arturo unsheathed his blade, drove the tip into the ground before kneeling, resting his forehead against the butt end of his sword.

Forgive me Arturo muttered as he looked up at his noble ancestors.

The sound of marching interrupted Arturo’s confession and the Captain quickly climbed to his feet and stood at attention. Moments later, a platoon of knights and soldiers marched into view, the men flanking a red and gold carriage pulled by two massive warhorses. Arturo gazed down the line of men assembled before him. The knights and soldiers were young, strong and confident but none of them showing the pride and honor of true warriors.

The door to the carriage swung open, and a pair of young stewards quickly scrambled forward, using their bodies to help a stern and venomous looking man descend the carriage. Dressed in the black and purple colors that signified the royal human bloodlines, the man glanced disgustingly at the statues towering above him his gaze hardening even further as he stared at the stones faces of the elfin statues.

Arturo quickly took a knee, his eyes fixed on the ground before him and his helmet by his feet.

Lord Nabena Arturo said as he remained kneeling.

Captain Nabena said, his snake-like gaze passing casually over the kneeling man before drifting to the rest of the Citadel. Are all the preparations in place?

Yes my Lord Arturo said, his knees were beginning to ache and Arturo could picture the jagged scar on his knee from his last tour on the front lines turning bright red from exertion. Your soldiers can enter through the hidden passages I have marked but the sentries on the outlook…

Have been taken care of Nabena said as he walked by the Captain, barely acknowledging his kneeling form. It was not until the ambassador was halfway up the stairs before he suddenly realized that Arturo was still kneeling.

Well don’t just sit there resting Nabena hissed. Do you expect me to enter the Great Hall unannounced?

Arturo climbed to his feet as quickly as he could and mounted the steps, taking them two at a time. Behind him, the four knights followed suit while the remaining soldiers fanned out, disappearing as they moved around the Citadel.

Arturo’s head bowed in respect as he slid passed the annoyed ambassador before he pushed open the doors leading into the Great Hall.

Lord Nabena Wena, Ambassador to the Dominion of Man and second cousin of the honorable King Helantos.

Trumpets sounded and Lord Nabena moved confidently into the Great Hall, his face barely hiding the resentment of the Citadel and its tapestries. Around the Hall, Arturo could see his men standing rigid at attention and the stewards bowed their heads in respect. Arturo almost jumped as the doors behind him closed with a boom and with a glance backwards noted that Nabena’s knights had taken positions near the door.

Lord Nabena, may I introduce Lord Tasobs and Lady Arseud, ambassadors of the Elfin Realm Arturo said as he gestured with a slight bow to the two individuals dressed in pure white seated on the far side of the main table.

The two elves had stood upon Nabena’s entrance and both lowered their heads in a sign of respect towards their human counterpart, a gesture that was not returned. Appearing unfazed, the two elves gestured for Nabena to join them at the table.

Thank you for granting an audience with the voice of your noble King Arseud said, her voice drifting through the air like a warm summer breeze.

We understand you must have had a long and exhausting journey, would you care for any refreshments or a recess before we address the task at hand? Tasobs continued his voice calm and collected.

Nabena snorted at this and he angrily beckoned the wine steward to pour him his drink. Without a nod of appreciation of even an acknowledgement of his hosts hospitality Nabena drank deeply before slamming the glass down on the table, spilling wine in the process.

Where are the dwarven lords? Are they not part of this great kingdom?

The two elves again nodded their heads in respect, the dwarves have declined the invitation to join our summit. They are troubled regarding the affairs of man and elf and wish to distance themselves. At least until we can achieve peace and security once again.

Do not attempt to shroud the reason of my visit with false gestures of sincerity and kindness Tasobs. We both know that treachery is afoot.

The two elves took the insult to their honor in stride, bowing their head in acknowledgment although their calm faces and voices never wavered. Standing to the side of the room, Arturo watched the exchange with little interest, his eyes instead flickering to his men and the knights standing at the door. The knights seemed so much larger than the soldiers he had fought beside all those years ago.

Angry little rat isn’t he? a voice suddenly spoke out from next to Arturo. The Captain’s head snapped so fast he felt his muscles groan in protest. Standing next to him was his Sergeant who was too busy watching Nabena insult the elves to notice Arturo’s strange behavior.

Indeed Arturo whispered in return, casting a half glance to Nabena before returning to his inspection of his troops. Angry little rat.

And to think that this creature is a blood relative to the King himself the Sergeant scoffed. The stock is becoming thin indeed.

Arturo cast his friend a curious glance and it took a few seconds before the Sergeant realized the offense of his words.

No offense intended Sir; your blood is of course full and pure.

Arturo allowed himself a small smile, the first he made in nearly two weeks, you are a good friend. Stay by my side and all will be well.

The Sergeant gave Arturo a puzzled look before shrugging and nodding to the ends of the world Sir.

Arturo’s attention drifted inward as his mind battled itself. The men under his command were loyal, true soldiers who believed in the United Kingdom of Drèmthanos; a kingdom that housed and protected the race of men, elves and dwarves. These were men who had bled for their kingdom and many, like Arturo’s Sergeant, served under Arturo’s command. These men trusted Arturo with their lives and obeyed his orders without question or hesitation.

These were men that Arturo was about to betray.

Arturo’s conscience screamed in agony as the seconds drifted past and while he continually cursed himself for what he was about to do his mind always drifted to the reward promised to him by King Helantos. As much as he enjoyed being a proud and honorable soldier, Arturo enjoyed providing for his family more. He wanted to lavish his wife with jewelry, and hiring the best scholars and swordsman for his two sons. He wanted to retire on the hills with not a care in the world and while his noble bloodline screamed at his selfishness, Arturo always fell back on the one thing that justified his actions. His King, the honorable King Helantos had ordered him to act. The promise of reward was simply payment for following orders.

Besides, Arturo reasoned as he glanced at his friend standing next to him, if he could save one of his men, it would all be worth it.

We will not settle for more lies Tasobs! Nabena screamed, his fist slamming on the table and jolting Arturo from his inner conflict. We have had reports of four villages with their entire population mutilated beyond recognition. Men, woman and children dying without a mark on them, local shamans swallowed up by the earth itself, their skin flayed from their bodies and their eyes weeping blood. Who else would have such magical powers to complete such a feat? Only the elves.

The elves would never commit such autocracies Arseud replied calmly, as we have told your King, by using your shamans to manipulate the weather to water your crops you have upset the delicate balance of nature. We warned you of the dangers of performing such acts but you did not heed them and nature responded in kind. Nature is not a force you can control at whim; it must be protected and carefully manipulated.

Nabena scoffed at this, then by your definition the act of me walking on some grass should incur nature’s wrath should it not?

Neither of the elf ambassadors said anything but Nabena needed no encouragement.

Even if your ridiculous theory were true, then why did your kind use your own powers to manipulate rainfall to serve your farms?

For the first time, Arseud and Tasobs displayed an emotion other than passive calm and looked genuinely shocked at Nabena’s remark.

Elves have never used magic to manipulate nature for our own benefit Tasobs replied, regaining his composure.

It was merely eight years ago when a drought swept through our eastern farmlands and thousands of farmers were left without their livelihood. We did not use our powers to manipulate nature then because we understood the dangers, Arseud added. Despite the uproar from our own kin we did nothing because it would upset the delicate balance of nature.

False truths elves, Nabena sneered. If even I can see through your lies it is no doubt that the all knowing King Helantos can sense your deceit. Your kind has simply grown jealous of man’s power and our skills with magic. You are simply scared that our magic is more powerful than your own.

Arseud’s elegant and long eyebrows raised just a fraction of an inch at the title the human King had evidently given himself.

Lord Nabena, we beseech you and your King to see reason. Elves and men have been allies for generations; we would never do anything to jeopardize that relationship. Let us help restore the balance of nature and mend the bridges that have been broken between our races. There is still so much that we can learn from each other.

There is only one alternative Nabena said with a snarl. King Helantos demands the cession of the provinces of Sable and Azure as well as the flatlands to the Dominion of Man. King Helantos also demands that the elves reduce their standing army and magic casters and reveal their full numbers so that we can determine if they are a threat.

Arseud and Tasobs looked at each other in surprise. Even Arturo’s Sergeant could not suppress a cough of shock. Nabena’s demands were by any standards ludicrous, especially since man and elf were allies.

These demands are outrageous Lord Nabena, you must see that and to even ask for them is insulting to everyone here, Tasobs said calmly. Our races are not at war and we have done nothing to warrant such demands. We are already offering our most skilled High Elves to aid in healing your lands and teaching your Shamans how to use nature for your own benefit. We ask for nothing in return…

You will not meet the King’s demands? Nabena interrupted.

The two elves remained silent for a few moments before meeting Nabena’s mousey gaze.

No, we will not.

Nabena took a deep breath before standing, then we have nothing else to discuss.

The two regal elves did not have a chance to get to their feet themselves before the sound of hissing arrows slicing through the air filled the Great Hall. Without warning, Arturo watched as his Honor Guards fall to the ground, arrows sticking out from their bodies. From the second floor balcony, Nabena’s soldiers were standing with crossbows at the ready, aiming their deadly bolts at the Honor Guards sworn to protect the elfin ambassadors. The men who did survive the initial onslaught quickly took shelter, drawing their swords and rushing to their charges. More of Nabena’s soldiers swarmed down the staircase and a dozen more knights stormed through the front doors.

Protect the ambassadors! Arturo heard his Sergeant scream as he withdrew his blade and began marshalling the men.

Sergeant! Arturo hissed, reaching out to pull his friend back to his side. His fingers grasped at air however as the Sergeant sprang into action, saving an Honor Guard from certain death. Pulling back, Arturo remained rooted on the spot, his mind barely comprehending the slaughter happening in front of him. The Captain watched as his men fell under the blade of Nabena’s knights. These were men who stood no chance, their battle scars and age preventing them from mounting any sort of defense, yet still they fought with their dying breath against knights who were stronger and faster.

It was over in a matter of minutes. The two elfin ambassadors stood proudly at the far end of the Great Hall, protected by three wounded Honor Guards and Arturo’s Sergeant.

Surrender the elves to us now Sergeant Nabena spat, taking a sip of wine as though the bloodshed before him was merely foreplay. Surrender and your lives will be spared.

Arturo watched as his Sergeant spat at Nabena’s feet, his sword held high and proudly.

Take them from me you traitorous rat.

Awoken from his stupor, Arturo quickly stepped forward, pushing his way past the wall of knights and soldiers that had surrounded his men.

Arturo? his Sergeant asked with growing realization. You did this?

King Helantos had delivered his orders to me. I am simply obeying them.

Our orders were to protect Lord Tasobs and Lady Arseud, we do not obey the commands of Helantos!

We are men are we not? Who are we to turn our back on our King.

Helantos is mad, you know that! the Sergeant screamed, his hands trembling. We trusted you with our lives! We fought and bled for you and now you throw your lot in with them? I was wrong when I said your bloodline was still pure.

Arturo took the barb to heart but he had already made his choice. Without a word, he stepped forward and withdrew his shining blade. The metal seemed heavier in his hand but the grip was all too familiar.

Men, lay down your weapons and surrender Lord Tasobs and Lady Arseud to us and your lives will be spared. We have no quarrel with you, Arturo said, his eyes meeting his former friend’s angry stare.

Much to his surprise, Arturo watched as Tasobs and Arseud step forward and rested a gentle hand on the four battle weary guards.

It is alright, no one else will die for us.

No Arturo watched his Sergeant say with determination, we are soldiers of Drèmthanos and we swore and oath to protect you.

Please, Arturo said quietly as his Sergeant lowered himself into a battle stance. Beside him, the three remaining Honor Guards did the same.

Know this Captain Arturo Arseud said her voice still angelic yet full of sorrow. Arturo could see the pity in her eyes. Even when facing certain death the elves showed no fear. Know that the blood of thousands of elves and men that will soak the earth in the war to come will be on your hands. Know that you had the power to stop this bloodshed but chose not to.

Arturo said nothing, his eyes unable to meet those of the elfin ambassador.

Long live the Kingdom of Drèmthanos the Sergeant screamed, his war cry echoing off the marble walls. Arturo remained motionless as he heard the whistles of crossbow bolts hissing through the air.

The Great War had begun.

Chapter One

Virtues

Ryan Constave’s heart was pounding in his head. His vision had long since started to tunnel so that all he could clearly see was directly in front of him. His backpack bounced around madly on his back and with each pounding footstep, Ryan could feel the nylon strap cutting into his shoulder.

The street flew by as Ryan continued to push forward as fast as his thin frame would allow. Somewhere behind him, Ryan could hear shouting and although some part of him wanted to turn around to see what kind of a lead he had on his pursuers he had seen enough movies to know that the moment he turned his head to look he would trip and fall. Instead, his mind raced as he tried to determine when everything went wrong.

The day had started as most Tuesday mornings did, with his alarm clock screaming at his tardiness. As with most fifteen year olds concerned about their popularity, Ryan had carefully picked out an outfit for the day, something that he believed was hip and cool. Now as he glanced down at his blue t-shirt with an emblem of a metallic dragon pressed into the front, Ryan was sure his definition of cutting edge fashion did not exactly line up with today’s popular culture. Blood from the cut lip he had incurred after a nasty spill earlier speckled the emblem, ruining his favorite shirt.

Should not have worn my Warcraft jacket Ryan thought to himself as he cursed himself with every sprinting step. With his social status at school already on the low end, Ryan mentally kicked himself for making the rookie mistake of wearing something that people could so easily ridicule. To make matters worse he did not even own a computer and the jacket was a gift from a friend who had one to spare. Even in the digital age, he did not even own a cell phone with his father thinking that the radiation from the phone would cause him to grow a brain tumor. That alone made him the butt end of many Luddite jokes.

Taking a corner as quickly as he could, Ryan felt his feet slipping under the sudden change in direction. Just as he managed to regain his footing, he heard a thunderous roar of anger and a quick glance down the street revealed an angry duo storming towards him. Without missing a beat, Ryan continued to run hoping that his pursuers were not smart enough to attempt to cut him off.

Reaching back once again, Ryan’s memories skipped forward to the second mistake he had made that day. It had happened during his forty-five minute hike to school. Ryan had walked to same route so many times he could have done the journey blindfolded and with the lack of anything scenic on the trip, he would not have missed much. With no cell phone or ipod to occupy his mind, Ryan had grabbed a fallen branch and begun to slash the air around him. In his mind, the trees around him had turned into towering monsters, their branches now hideous limbs that reached out to grab him. The cracks in the sidewalk became fissures, threatening to swallow him completely while his stick became a gleaming sword, ready to hack and slice through any demon that would confront him. So engrossed in his imaginary world, Ryan had nearly struck a trio of girls who were rounding a blind corner. While normally Ryan would brush off the incident and quickly escape, one of the girls he had almost struck was his childhood crush: Catherine Hardy. In a feeble attempt to redeem himself, Ryan remembered the completely unimpressed look on Catherine’s face as he muttered something about swatting bugs before scampering away with his tail between his legs. While the incident was embarrassing enough, Ryan knew that either Catherine or her friends would report the incident to their friends. His humiliation would spread through the school like wildfire.

The shouting behind Ryan jolted him back to the present. His legs were screaming in agony and his breathing becoming increasing labored, Ryan was beginning to regret angering one of the track stars of his school. While Ryan was fast on his feet, his thin feeble frame was built for short bursts of speed and not marathons. Already he could feel him reaching his endurance limit. The track stars pursuing him however, were one of the town’s fastest one-kilometer runners.

Mistake number four. Ryan thought to himself. Even his thoughts were starting to come out in ragged gasps. Barely avoiding a honking car as he sprinted across a residential street in an effort to elude his pursuers, Ryan began to cut through some backyards. The one advantage he did have was that he was intimately familiar with this neighborhood having spent many lazy summer days near here.

Vaulting over a shrub, Ryan’s mind drifted off one last time as he recounted his third and what he was sure the most significant mistake of the day.

His sister Megan, a budding psychologist with no real knowledge in the field had diagnosed him with obsessive-compulsive disorder stemming with his overpowering timid nature and his black-and-white view of the ethics and morals. Seven years his elder, Ryan knew that his sister loved him but she was far too old to be a playmate. Although she tried to look out for him Ryan was convinced she had long forgotten what it was like to be a teenager in Junior High. Contrary to his sister’s insistence, classmates and bullies did not respond well to assertive demands of ‘stop it; I do not like you pushing’. All that did was fuel the fire.

With his inflexibility when it came to right and wrong, Ryan really only had one real friend. A former neighbor, Cory Schell had since moved across the city although he did remain a classmate. Sharing somewhat similar interests, particularly in the realm of fantasy and role-playing, Cory never had as much problems as Ryan did when it came to fitting in. In contrast to Ryan in every way, Cory was a stellar student, natural soccer player and a physically imposing figure with a heart of gold, Cory was well liked by everyone. While he could have easily shrugged off his previous relationship with Ryan after moving, Cory remained steadfast. Ryan was not sure whether Cory simply felt sorry for him or truly enjoyed his company but he did not question it for fear of ruining a good thing.

It was with Cory that Ryan had made his third mistake. The pair was walking casually through the halls after the final bell had rung. Cory, with a smile on his face and head held high while Ryan dragged his feet next to him, head down and looking pathetic.

Cheer up man, it was just a pop quiz, you’ll get it next time Cory said with a firm pat on Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan winced but otherwise showed no change in emotion.

I got four states right Ryan grumbled. Out of the fifty States in the US I managed to name four of them. How sad is that?

Cory shrugged as he waved at his fellow soccer teammates, hey man you’re Canadian. You don’t have to know everything about the States right?

Ryan gave Cory a pathetic look to which his friend responded with a heavy sigh.

Look Ryan it’s not the end of the world, relax! The quiz was worth like one percent of your total mark.

You’re right Ryan muttered, not like I was going for a hundred percent anyways right?

Cory either pretended not to hear Ryan’s self-deprecating comment or chose to ignore it as the pair continued down the hall.

Hey Ryan where is your stick?

Ryan looked up at his name but immediately averted his gaze from the teasing from his classmates. Several other students joined in on the teasing and laughing only to be quickly silenced by a stern glance from Cory.

My life is ruined Ryan mumbled as he felt his face flush from embarrassment.

Don’t worry about it buddy, they’ll forget about it soon enough Cory said dismissively before grinning and giving Ryan a playful shove. So were you using a long sword or scimitar?

Ryan finally broke into a smile as he looked up for the first time, long sword of course. Heavier blade, longer reach, more power. Why go with any other kind of sword?

Cory smiled and shook his head, you’d be moving so slowly with that thing a person with a butter knife could get under your guard after you make a giant swing.

"But that’s assuming that you can even get under my guard without getting your head lopped off.

Yeah well… Cory began before he stopped mid-sentence. Ryan looked up at his friend and followed his gaze only to find his eyes settling on Catherine and her friends at the end of the hall. With a heavy sigh, Ryan looked down at his feet, once again feeling sorry about his life.

Go ahead Cory Ryan sighed.

What are you talking about? Cory asked as he broke his eyes away from Catherine.

Go talk to her. You know you want to.

Cory gave Ryan a silly look before he grew serious, no it’s okay. I know you like her too.

Ryan snorted in disgust. Yeah but you honestly think she’ll go for a guy like me? Least you got a shot. Plus I think she likes you too.

Cory frowned at Ryan but eventually relented as Ryan stared him down. Watching as his friend jogged down the hall to talk to Catherine, Ryan leaned against the wall and sighed wishfully. If only he had the confidence to walk up to girls. If only he was taller and stronger. If only he were smarter. If only he was Cory.

The sound of papers falling to the ground snapped Ryan out of his daydream. With school out for the day, the classroom across the hall should be empty. Curious, Ryan crept forward and slowly pushed open the door. His mouth open in a silent ‘oh’ Ryan blinked in shock as he watched the schools track and field star Dylan Brooke and one of his friends rummaging through the teacher’s desk.

Man I can’t find the answer sheet

Keep looking Dylan hissed.

Shocked by what he was seeing, Ryan was about to turn and run to the principal’s office only to accidently kick the wastebasket next to the door.

Ryan Dylan growled.

Dude let’s get out of here before someone else shows Dylan’s friend whispered. This pipsqueak isn’t going to talk anyways.

Ryan remained rooted in fear as he saw the rage in Dylan’s eyes. While certainly not a bully in the conventional sense, Dylan was known for his temper.

Y-you’re cheating… Ryan stammered, I-I am going to tell…

You do not get it do you Dylan said to his friend in a low growl as he began walking towards the door where Ryan stood. His heart racing, Ryan tried to back up but his feet responded sluggishly to his commands. Ryan here is a rat. He’s going to run off to the teacher.

Then we gotta bolt!

No, we got to shut him up Dylan responded.

Ryan had no idea what happened after that as he simply turned and took off. Sprinting past Cory and Catherine who both looked confused, Ryan threw open the school doors and took off across the field.

Ryan cursed himself with each step. Why did he have to keep sticking his nose into things that did not concern him? All he had to do was keep his mouth shut, close the door, and pretend nothing happened. Dylan was not even in his class so his cheating was not going to hurt his own grade anyways. Instead, his silly sense of honor was now going to get him killed.

Casting a nervous glance backwards, Ryan could see that his evasive maneuvers up to now were completely ineffective. Dylan had closed the gap and on the other side of the street, Ryan could see that one of Dylan’s friends had positioned to cut him off.

His vision pulsing with each beat of his heart, Ryan could now only see a tiny sliver in front of him. Desperate and running out of breath, Ryan quickly sprinted through the tall grass of an abandoned lot, ignoring the scrapes of thorns as they tugged at his arms. Knowing that the lot backed into a dense park, Ryan finally broke free of the grass and weeds and dove into the tall hedges that lined the park border. Weaving his way through the branches of an overgrown hedge, Ryan could hear a roar of anger as his pursuers tried to make their way through the foliage. Sweat dripping into his eyes, Ryan felt the clawing branches tug at his backpack. Without hesitation, Ryan squirmed free of his bag and instinctively tossed it away. With gasping breath and the last ounce of his strength, Ryan clawed his way up a leafy poplar tree where he promptly collapsed. Having climbed the very same tree multiple times in his childhood, Ryan knew every branch of the trusted tree and knew exactly how high he need to get in order to disappear from view.

Doing his best to silence his wheezing breath, Ryan could hear Dylan crashing through the bushes below, swearing continuously. Somewhere in the distance, Ryan could hear Dylan’s friend stomping about.

Dylan over here! Found his bag!

Ryan held his breath, straining to listen to Dylan’s conversation over the pounding of his heart.

Ryan you squirmy little punk! Show yourself!

In his oxygen-deprived state, Ryan wondered who would willingly reveal their position knowing that a beating was imminent.

He probably booked it across the park Ryan hear Dylan’s friend say. A heavy thump informed Ryan that his pack had been roughly hurled into the brush.

Move then, he couldn’t have gotten far.

Ryan listened to Dylan’s footsteps disappear before finally allowing himself to inhale and exhale deeply. His entire body was screaming and his lungs were furious with him. After what seemed like an eternity, Ryan finally had the strength and will to slide off the tree. Dylan had tossed his backpack in a nearby rose bush and after the creative use of several long branches; Ryan managed to reclaim his pack.

His feet dragging along through ground as though they were encased in lead, Ryan trudged back through the abandoned lot and headed down the street. Walking past three more houses Ryan pushed open a rusted iron gate, flinching as the metal groaned in protest. Satisfied that the coast was indeed clear Ryan closed the gate behind him and slowly walked up the crumbling front walkway. While Ryan was not in a bad part town, it certainly was not an affluent neighborhood and the house was proof of that.

The front yard was overgrown with weeds and uneven grass while trees grew haphazardly in all different directions. Ryan could tell that the yard was once simple yet well kept but years of neglect had surrendered it to nature. The only lawn decoration that remained was a small crumbling statue of what used to be a dragon sitting lost amidst the tall grass and weeds. The house itself was modest although the blue paint was peeling and the wood on the front deck was beginning to rot and decay. The white trim of the house had long since faded and portions of the wooden roof tiles were in desperate need of replacing. Despite its appearance, Ryan could see that underneath the grimy facade that the home used to be a warm and welcoming place, a place where family and friends would gather for parties and elaborate dinners.

At least it was until time had claimed it.

Ignoring the groans of protests from the rotten front steps, Ryan walked to the front door and pounded heavily on the door. Catching a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the dirty window, Ryan quickly smoothed his hair and wiped his sweaty brow. His shirt was drenched with sweat and dirt while his forearms were scratched when he pushed his way through the brush. Pulling his jacket sleeves down to conceal his wounds, Ryan sighed, knowing there was little else he could do to fix his appearance. At least his lip had stopped bleeding.

Just a second! a gruff voice called from inside the house. Moments later Ryan heard the lock slide open and the heavy wooden door slide open a crack.

Hi Aiden Ryan said with a disarming smile as he stared at the piercing blue eye that poked through the door crack.

Ryan! was the response as a wizardly old man threw open the door. While his age now forced him to stand hunched, Aiden still stood an imposing six feet five inches, towering well over Ryan. His body wiry and strong, the wrinkles on Aiden masked the strength that lay beneath and Ryan was certain not even a group of five tough boys his age would be able to take on the old man and emerge victorious. Ryan wished to look as fit and strong as Aiden did when he grew old. He would even settle for looking like Aiden now if it would help him fit in at school.

Ryan my boy! How are you? Aiden said with a wide grin, displaying two rows of perfect teeth, as he quickly squeezed Ryan in a tight bear hug. Ryan felt his bones groan in protest but let Aiden have his moment.

Fine Aiden, thank you Ryan gasped as the old man finally released him.

Ryan met Aiden last year when he was forced by his socially conscious sister to volunteer for a senior outreach program. While initially dreading the experience, Ryan soon found himself becoming good friends with the strange old man. With Aiden having a strange affinity for woodworking and sculptures, Ryan had often acted as a second pair of hands. While Ryan possessed precisely zero carpentry skill, Aiden remained patient with the boy and the two became very close. Ryan acting as a surrogate son to the old man while Aiden was the older brother that Ryan never had.

Come in! Aiden said. I was boiling some water, would you like some hot chocolate?

Ryan never could place Aiden’s faint accent but if he had to guess, it sounded like a mix of Scottish and French.

Sure Ryan said as Aiden gestured extravagantly down the front hall to the kitchen.

In complete contrast to the house exterior,