| By: Jason Atwood |
Jayce awoke to the sound of two men having a hushed conversation. He felt fabric against his
skin, and he opened his eyes to slits. He looked down to see that he had been dressed in a
nightshirt and loosely covered with a blanket. He slowly turned his head toward the voices. The
men were standing with their backs toward him, looking out a window. Jayce slowly turned his
head to inspect the room. He did not dare sit up or make a sound. Jayce did not think these men
intended to harm him, but he also was not yet ready to draw their attention.
Light from the window allowed for a sufficient inspection. The room had a wooden floor, and the
stone walls were decorated with tapestries depicting battle scenes. Against one wall there was a
wardrobe. Beside the wardrobe was a plain wooden desk upon which set a pen and ink well. The
desk was covered with neat stacks of papers. The room was designed for function. This was a
place of thought and sleep. Leaning against the desk chair was a long, thin object attached to a
belt. The word “sword” popped into Jayce’s mind. He felt both afraid and fascinated with its
deadly simplicity.
Jayce turned his attention to the two men by the window. They were about the same height as
each other. One had strong, broad shoulders. He was dressed in a simple shirt and pants both of
a dark, drab green. In contrast to his garb, he wore an impossibly bright yellow armband. His
black hair was cut short in a military style, and it was beginning to show the first signs of grey. He
stood with an air of authority, arms crossed and stiff-backed. He tapped his foot on the floor
either out of agitation or impatience as he listened to his companion. The faint, yet sharp sound
filled the small room. The steady, rhythmic tapping gave the illusion that the room was actually
alive with its own heartbeat.
The other man was slender of frame. His skin was dark as shadow, and he had wiry black hair
shot through with streaks of silver. His hands were delicate, and his nails were meticulously
manicured. He wore a grey robe that seemed to be both dull and shimmering depending on how
the light struck it.
The man in the robe spoke to the other man in urgent, hushed tones. His hand slashed the air
up and down as he spoke. Jayce was unable to understand what was being said, but it appeared to
be a matter of much concern. The robed man finished his speech. His companion bowed his
head. After a brief moment he looked at the robed man and nodded once.
The robed man began to breathe deeply while making circular motions with his hands. The other
man ceased the tapping of his foot, and the room seemed to die. The robed man began to flicker
like a candle flame subjected to a draft. His body grew insubstantial. Amazingly, Jayce could see
the wall through his ghostly image. He returned to solid form for a brief moment, and then became
wraithlike once again. Jayce felt the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand up. The
feeling in the air was not one of energy but rather the exact opposite; the absence of energy.
The robed man had become some sort of void, and an impalpable current was flowing into him.
Jayce could not describe what it was. He could not have honestly said that he had felt the
presence of the energy this strange man seemed to be sucking from the air, but the absence of it
was easily noticed. Jayce felt uneasy, but not fearful. This new feeling was unpleasant, but it didn’
t feel dangerous.
There was a sharp crack like a bough breaking as the robed man solidified. Jayce realized
that he had pulled himself into a seated position on the bed. His neck and back were rigid, his jaw
clenched. He gripped the sheets in claw-like hands. A cool sweat covered his forehead. He
relaxed his muscles as he let out a heavy sigh. The two men turned slowly. The robed man’s face
was flushed.
“It appears our guest is awake,” he said in a shaky voice.
Jayce sprang from the bed onto his feet ready to fight or run.
“Jayce,” the broad shouldered man spoke calmly, “My name is Garren, and this is Gazali.”
“How...how do you know my name?” Jayce stuttered
Garren produced Jayce’s silver bracelet from his pocket. Jayce growled. The gall of these
two strangers to steal from him! He readied himself to pounce and wrest back his only link to the
before-time.
“It was at my suggestion that we removed it,” Gazali explained. He spoke with a slow, rolling
accent. His voice was like a river whose surface appears calm, but at the same time possesses a
mighty current. “It was too small for you, and it would have eventually cut into your skin as you
grew.”
“I’m sorry that we had to cut it off of you,” Garren apologized. “I can have a jeweler clean it
and maybe put a clasp on it, but you can have it back now if you like.”
Jayce warily stepped forward, snatched the bracelet and jumped back. He shot a quick glance
over his shoulder and we was about to run for the door when Garren spoke again in a calm voice.
“I understand if you are eager to leave, but would you at least like some clean clothes and a
meal before venturing forth? You aren’t a prisoner, but it’s against my grain to let someone leave
half naked and hungry.”
Jayce felt embarrassed. If these two men had meant him harm, then he would not have
awoken in a nice bed. If they had meant him harm, he probably would not have woken up at all.
“I would like that,” Jayce began in a barely audible voice “It’s nice of you to offer to fix my
bracelet, but I would like to just hold onto it. I’ve had it for as long as I can remember.”
Jayce did not know why he added the last sentence. It didn’t hold much weight considering the
length of his memory was only a few hours. Only a few hours…he wondered exactly how long he
was out after his unfortunate meeting with the tree. There were so many things that he did not
know.
As if reading his mind, Garren said, “I’m sure you have many questions, and we have quite a
few of our own. I’ll send someone up here with some clothes, and he’ll guide you to the officers’
dining room. We can talk after you get some food in your belly.”
He smiled as he said this, but to Jayce it did not look quite right. His mouth and eyes were smiling,
but the lines of his face were all wrong. He must not have had much practice at it, and Jayce again
felt chagrined by his mistrust of Garren.
“Thank you. I’m sorry if I was rude. I just…” Jayce began to ramble.
“Never apologize for doing what seems right at the time,” Garren said flatly, and both
men made their exit.
It was not long before a neatly dressed man knocked at Jayce’s door. He wore a slightly
bored expression, and he carried the promised change of clothes. The man waited patiently as
Jayce got dressed in the drab brown outfit provided for him. Then, he directed Jayce to follow
him. Jayce noticed that he also wore a yellow armband and pondered upon its possible
significance on the short walk to their destination.
The officers’ dining room was not grand as some might imagine. It was a smallish room with
bare stone walls. In its center was an antique wooden table. Its surfaces bore several scratches,
but it was polished to a glossy sheen. Intricate spiraling designs were carved on the borders of the
tabletop. Around the table were six high-backed wooden chairs. The only other piece of furniture
in the room was a small liquor cabinet. This room was designed not only for eating but for talking.
It was a room for planning, deal making and information gathering all lubricated by food and drink.
Upon entering the dining room, Jayce was welcomed by Garren and Gazali. From his position at
the head of the table, Garren motioned for Jayce to take the chair next to him. Gazali seated
himself across from Jayce as Garren dismissed the man who had guided him to the dining room.
“I was wondering--” Jayce began, but was interrupted by Garren.
“There’ll be time enough for questions after we’ve had a good meal,” Garren said in a tone
that was probably meant to be good natured but, nonetheless, had a hard edge to it.
The kitchen door opened, and two servers entered the room carrying massive trays laden with
plates, cups, silverware, large pitchers filled with icy water, steaming pots and a basket of bread.
“Please, help yourself,” Garren offered. “I hope you weren’t expecting anything fancy. In
general, the officers eat the same food as our grunts.”
Jayce paid little attention to Garren and began spooning heaping amounts of stew and beans
onto his plate. The food was flavorful and so spicy that Jayce was forced to drain several cups of
water, and attack the bread with fervor to abate the fire in his mouth.
“You better slow down, young one,” Gazali said with a good natured laugh, “before you burst
into flames on us.”
Garren chimed in, “Benny does put too much spice in his food, but it beats eating bland field
rations.”
They continued eating for a time, only interrupted by short periods of small talk. The two men
kept the mood light, but Jayce could sense a growing tension. He calmly spooned the last bit of
stew into his mouth, took a long drink of water and pushed his plate aside.
“Now that we’ve eaten our fill, maybe we can get started--” Garren began in an attempt to
control the flow of the conversation.
“What about dessert? I’m sure there’ll be time enough for questions after a bit of cake,”
Jayce said interrupting Garren without a hint of a smile on his face. Garren was the one who
wanted to delay serious talk. So, Jayce decided that making him wait a little longer would do no
harm
The corner of Garren’s eye began to twitch, but the tension was broken by a howling belly
laugh from Gazali. “He’s a quick one, Garren. Maybe we should dispense with the games and
have an honest talk.”
Garren’s face softened, “You must forgive me. I try to establish a dominant position with
people early on. Makes for easier business, and it’s a hard habit to break.”
“What’s your business?” asked Jayce.
“I’m the leader of the Yellow Jackets,” Garren began. “We’re a freelance group specializing
in security escorts, information gathering, and property reacquisition.”
Gazali spoke in a dramatic tone, his rolling voice filling the room, “I harness mystical energies
to delve into the smoky reaches of the netherworld. I peer into the void and learn the secrets which
will grant us victory in our endeavors.”
Jayce stared at the two men in wide-eyed disbelief. He was not sure if they were mercenaries
or actors.
“I guess our spiel needs some work,” Garren said breaking the silence. “Basically, we act as
bodyguards, but will perform almost any task for the right price. When the law fails people, they
can hire us to set things right.” Garren continued, “Now, would you please tell us about yourself?”
Jayce recounted how he woke up in the forest with no memory about his past. He explained
how he could not remember how old he was nor his name, and how he had decided his name was
Jayce from the bracelet. Instinct told him to leave out any mention of hearing a voice and seeing
faces in the trees. Instinct also prevented him from talking about how he was running after a wolf.
Instead, he said that he thought he saw some large animal and ran. That being why he crashed
through the brush and into the path in such a panic.
Garren and Gazali paid close attention as Jayce spoke. Neither one interrupted, but as he
finished speaking it was clear that his story offered no answers to the questions the men had.
Silence descended upon the room and quickly took on an uncomfortable weight as Garren and
Gazali considered what they had just heard. Jayce began to think they could sense that he had left
out certain facts, but did his best not to show any nervousness. He could see no harm in leaving
out those few things. Gazali may have found voices, tree faces and spectral wolves fascinating,
but Garren struck Jayce as a man only interested in more tangible things.
“I guess it’s only fair that we tell you what happened afterward,” Garren said, finally breaking
the silence. “After you knocked your head on that tree, you were out for three days.”
Jayce’s jaw dropped. He began to interject, but Garren raised his hand and continued. “You
started crying out…screaming actually. You were saying something, but we couldn’t understand.
Gazali and our healer put you in a type of trance until we could reach Charton.”
“Don’t feel bad. People act odd when they’ve been hit on the head. One time Garren took a
nasty blow and started barking like a dog,” Gazali said, eliciting a giggle from Jayce.
“Don’t tell the boy that,” Garren spoke with mock anger. “You’ll ruin my image as an authority
figure.”
Garren cleared his throat and continued, “After we arrived back here, we put you in my bed.
Then Gazali released you from the trance and you slept naturally. Whatever terror that gripped
you seemed to have passed. It wasn’t long after that you woke up.”
Curiosity burned within Jayce, and he ventured a question, “Gazali, what were you doing right
before you noticed I was awake?”
Gazali looked toward Garren, and Garren nodded for him to answer, “While you were in the
trance on the journey here, I attempted to find out anything I could about you. I used my skills to
reach out to your mind and spirit, but I was unsuccessful.”
“And that was what you were you trying to do that in the bedroom while you thought I was still
asleep?”
“Yes,” Gazali said grimly “but I was still unable to learn anything.”
Jayce sighed partly from dejection and partly from relief. He was curious to know about his
past, but at the same time he was scared to learn the truth. There were shadows concealing that
part of his life. Maybe they were there for a good reason. The look on his wolf’s face had been
sad, but it had also been a knowing look. Was it possible that it had knowledge of his past?
“However, I was able to find out one thing,” continued Gazali. Jayce looked up with eager
eyes. “I found no trace of magical energies on you; neither from within you nor cast upon you.”
“What does that mean?” questioned Jayce.
“It means that not only were no spells cast on you, but you did not cast any yourself. As far
as I can tell, you do not have the gift of magical ability.”
“Why would I cast something on myself that would leave me as you found me?”
Gazali gave a small chuckle, “It's not unheard of for an apprentice to dabble in powers beyond
their ability to control. More than one has regained consciousness in a strange place, undressed
with holes in their memory.”
Jayce nodded.
Gazali added with a sly grin, “In fact, Garren had several such experiences, but his was due to
nights of carousing instead of magic.”
“Maybe I should get another mystic,” Garren cut his eyes at the wizard.
“My stories are a small price to pay to retain my sage counsel,” Gazali said with a grin, “and
someone has to keep that ego of yours from getting too inflated.”
Garren turned to Jayce. His mood had become serious, “What do you intend to do now?”
“I…I ‘m not sure,” Jayce stammered.
“As I see it, you have two options,” Garren explained. “We can give you some supplies, and
you can strike off on your own.”
Jayce considered the option, but he had no idea of where he would go.
Garren continued, “Or you can become a Yellow Jackets recruit. You’ll have to work hard, but
you’ll get room, board and a little coin in your pocket. As you progress through the ranks, your
rewards will increase.”
Jayce carefully considered this option. He had a vague feeling that his wolf had led him to
these people for a reason. He did not know what that reason could be, but at least he would have
a place to call home.
“I must warn you,” Garren fixed Jayce with a hard stare, “the missions you’ll eventually be sent
on will have an element of danger. Sometimes our agents don’t make it back. To keep you and
your comrades safe, I must insist that you follow orders without question.”
Jayce met Garren’s eyes, “I understand. I’ll stay.”
skin, and he opened his eyes to slits. He looked down to see that he had been dressed in a
nightshirt and loosely covered with a blanket. He slowly turned his head toward the voices. The
men were standing with their backs toward him, looking out a window. Jayce slowly turned his
head to inspect the room. He did not dare sit up or make a sound. Jayce did not think these men
intended to harm him, but he also was not yet ready to draw their attention.
Light from the window allowed for a sufficient inspection. The room had a wooden floor, and the
stone walls were decorated with tapestries depicting battle scenes. Against one wall there was a
wardrobe. Beside the wardrobe was a plain wooden desk upon which set a pen and ink well. The
desk was covered with neat stacks of papers. The room was designed for function. This was a
place of thought and sleep. Leaning against the desk chair was a long, thin object attached to a
belt. The word “sword” popped into Jayce’s mind. He felt both afraid and fascinated with its
deadly simplicity.
Jayce turned his attention to the two men by the window. They were about the same height as
each other. One had strong, broad shoulders. He was dressed in a simple shirt and pants both of
a dark, drab green. In contrast to his garb, he wore an impossibly bright yellow armband. His
black hair was cut short in a military style, and it was beginning to show the first signs of grey. He
stood with an air of authority, arms crossed and stiff-backed. He tapped his foot on the floor
either out of agitation or impatience as he listened to his companion. The faint, yet sharp sound
filled the small room. The steady, rhythmic tapping gave the illusion that the room was actually
alive with its own heartbeat.
The other man was slender of frame. His skin was dark as shadow, and he had wiry black hair
shot through with streaks of silver. His hands were delicate, and his nails were meticulously
manicured. He wore a grey robe that seemed to be both dull and shimmering depending on how
the light struck it.
The man in the robe spoke to the other man in urgent, hushed tones. His hand slashed the air
up and down as he spoke. Jayce was unable to understand what was being said, but it appeared to
be a matter of much concern. The robed man finished his speech. His companion bowed his
head. After a brief moment he looked at the robed man and nodded once.
The robed man began to breathe deeply while making circular motions with his hands. The other
man ceased the tapping of his foot, and the room seemed to die. The robed man began to flicker
like a candle flame subjected to a draft. His body grew insubstantial. Amazingly, Jayce could see
the wall through his ghostly image. He returned to solid form for a brief moment, and then became
wraithlike once again. Jayce felt the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand up. The
feeling in the air was not one of energy but rather the exact opposite; the absence of energy.
The robed man had become some sort of void, and an impalpable current was flowing into him.
Jayce could not describe what it was. He could not have honestly said that he had felt the
presence of the energy this strange man seemed to be sucking from the air, but the absence of it
was easily noticed. Jayce felt uneasy, but not fearful. This new feeling was unpleasant, but it didn’
t feel dangerous.
There was a sharp crack like a bough breaking as the robed man solidified. Jayce realized
that he had pulled himself into a seated position on the bed. His neck and back were rigid, his jaw
clenched. He gripped the sheets in claw-like hands. A cool sweat covered his forehead. He
relaxed his muscles as he let out a heavy sigh. The two men turned slowly. The robed man’s face
was flushed.
“It appears our guest is awake,” he said in a shaky voice.
Jayce sprang from the bed onto his feet ready to fight or run.
“Jayce,” the broad shouldered man spoke calmly, “My name is Garren, and this is Gazali.”
“How...how do you know my name?” Jayce stuttered
Garren produced Jayce’s silver bracelet from his pocket. Jayce growled. The gall of these
two strangers to steal from him! He readied himself to pounce and wrest back his only link to the
before-time.
“It was at my suggestion that we removed it,” Gazali explained. He spoke with a slow, rolling
accent. His voice was like a river whose surface appears calm, but at the same time possesses a
mighty current. “It was too small for you, and it would have eventually cut into your skin as you
grew.”
“I’m sorry that we had to cut it off of you,” Garren apologized. “I can have a jeweler clean it
and maybe put a clasp on it, but you can have it back now if you like.”
Jayce warily stepped forward, snatched the bracelet and jumped back. He shot a quick glance
over his shoulder and we was about to run for the door when Garren spoke again in a calm voice.
“I understand if you are eager to leave, but would you at least like some clean clothes and a
meal before venturing forth? You aren’t a prisoner, but it’s against my grain to let someone leave
half naked and hungry.”
Jayce felt embarrassed. If these two men had meant him harm, then he would not have
awoken in a nice bed. If they had meant him harm, he probably would not have woken up at all.
“I would like that,” Jayce began in a barely audible voice “It’s nice of you to offer to fix my
bracelet, but I would like to just hold onto it. I’ve had it for as long as I can remember.”
Jayce did not know why he added the last sentence. It didn’t hold much weight considering the
length of his memory was only a few hours. Only a few hours…he wondered exactly how long he
was out after his unfortunate meeting with the tree. There were so many things that he did not
know.
As if reading his mind, Garren said, “I’m sure you have many questions, and we have quite a
few of our own. I’ll send someone up here with some clothes, and he’ll guide you to the officers’
dining room. We can talk after you get some food in your belly.”
He smiled as he said this, but to Jayce it did not look quite right. His mouth and eyes were smiling,
but the lines of his face were all wrong. He must not have had much practice at it, and Jayce again
felt chagrined by his mistrust of Garren.
“Thank you. I’m sorry if I was rude. I just…” Jayce began to ramble.
“Never apologize for doing what seems right at the time,” Garren said flatly, and both
men made their exit.
It was not long before a neatly dressed man knocked at Jayce’s door. He wore a slightly
bored expression, and he carried the promised change of clothes. The man waited patiently as
Jayce got dressed in the drab brown outfit provided for him. Then, he directed Jayce to follow
him. Jayce noticed that he also wore a yellow armband and pondered upon its possible
significance on the short walk to their destination.
The officers’ dining room was not grand as some might imagine. It was a smallish room with
bare stone walls. In its center was an antique wooden table. Its surfaces bore several scratches,
but it was polished to a glossy sheen. Intricate spiraling designs were carved on the borders of the
tabletop. Around the table were six high-backed wooden chairs. The only other piece of furniture
in the room was a small liquor cabinet. This room was designed not only for eating but for talking.
It was a room for planning, deal making and information gathering all lubricated by food and drink.
Upon entering the dining room, Jayce was welcomed by Garren and Gazali. From his position at
the head of the table, Garren motioned for Jayce to take the chair next to him. Gazali seated
himself across from Jayce as Garren dismissed the man who had guided him to the dining room.
“I was wondering--” Jayce began, but was interrupted by Garren.
“There’ll be time enough for questions after we’ve had a good meal,” Garren said in a tone
that was probably meant to be good natured but, nonetheless, had a hard edge to it.
The kitchen door opened, and two servers entered the room carrying massive trays laden with
plates, cups, silverware, large pitchers filled with icy water, steaming pots and a basket of bread.
“Please, help yourself,” Garren offered. “I hope you weren’t expecting anything fancy. In
general, the officers eat the same food as our grunts.”
Jayce paid little attention to Garren and began spooning heaping amounts of stew and beans
onto his plate. The food was flavorful and so spicy that Jayce was forced to drain several cups of
water, and attack the bread with fervor to abate the fire in his mouth.
“You better slow down, young one,” Gazali said with a good natured laugh, “before you burst
into flames on us.”
Garren chimed in, “Benny does put too much spice in his food, but it beats eating bland field
rations.”
They continued eating for a time, only interrupted by short periods of small talk. The two men
kept the mood light, but Jayce could sense a growing tension. He calmly spooned the last bit of
stew into his mouth, took a long drink of water and pushed his plate aside.
“Now that we’ve eaten our fill, maybe we can get started--” Garren began in an attempt to
control the flow of the conversation.
“What about dessert? I’m sure there’ll be time enough for questions after a bit of cake,”
Jayce said interrupting Garren without a hint of a smile on his face. Garren was the one who
wanted to delay serious talk. So, Jayce decided that making him wait a little longer would do no
harm
The corner of Garren’s eye began to twitch, but the tension was broken by a howling belly
laugh from Gazali. “He’s a quick one, Garren. Maybe we should dispense with the games and
have an honest talk.”
Garren’s face softened, “You must forgive me. I try to establish a dominant position with
people early on. Makes for easier business, and it’s a hard habit to break.”
“What’s your business?” asked Jayce.
“I’m the leader of the Yellow Jackets,” Garren began. “We’re a freelance group specializing
in security escorts, information gathering, and property reacquisition.”
Gazali spoke in a dramatic tone, his rolling voice filling the room, “I harness mystical energies
to delve into the smoky reaches of the netherworld. I peer into the void and learn the secrets which
will grant us victory in our endeavors.”
Jayce stared at the two men in wide-eyed disbelief. He was not sure if they were mercenaries
or actors.
“I guess our spiel needs some work,” Garren said breaking the silence. “Basically, we act as
bodyguards, but will perform almost any task for the right price. When the law fails people, they
can hire us to set things right.” Garren continued, “Now, would you please tell us about yourself?”
Jayce recounted how he woke up in the forest with no memory about his past. He explained
how he could not remember how old he was nor his name, and how he had decided his name was
Jayce from the bracelet. Instinct told him to leave out any mention of hearing a voice and seeing
faces in the trees. Instinct also prevented him from talking about how he was running after a wolf.
Instead, he said that he thought he saw some large animal and ran. That being why he crashed
through the brush and into the path in such a panic.
Garren and Gazali paid close attention as Jayce spoke. Neither one interrupted, but as he
finished speaking it was clear that his story offered no answers to the questions the men had.
Silence descended upon the room and quickly took on an uncomfortable weight as Garren and
Gazali considered what they had just heard. Jayce began to think they could sense that he had left
out certain facts, but did his best not to show any nervousness. He could see no harm in leaving
out those few things. Gazali may have found voices, tree faces and spectral wolves fascinating,
but Garren struck Jayce as a man only interested in more tangible things.
“I guess it’s only fair that we tell you what happened afterward,” Garren said, finally breaking
the silence. “After you knocked your head on that tree, you were out for three days.”
Jayce’s jaw dropped. He began to interject, but Garren raised his hand and continued. “You
started crying out…screaming actually. You were saying something, but we couldn’t understand.
Gazali and our healer put you in a type of trance until we could reach Charton.”
“Don’t feel bad. People act odd when they’ve been hit on the head. One time Garren took a
nasty blow and started barking like a dog,” Gazali said, eliciting a giggle from Jayce.
“Don’t tell the boy that,” Garren spoke with mock anger. “You’ll ruin my image as an authority
figure.”
Garren cleared his throat and continued, “After we arrived back here, we put you in my bed.
Then Gazali released you from the trance and you slept naturally. Whatever terror that gripped
you seemed to have passed. It wasn’t long after that you woke up.”
Curiosity burned within Jayce, and he ventured a question, “Gazali, what were you doing right
before you noticed I was awake?”
Gazali looked toward Garren, and Garren nodded for him to answer, “While you were in the
trance on the journey here, I attempted to find out anything I could about you. I used my skills to
reach out to your mind and spirit, but I was unsuccessful.”
“And that was what you were you trying to do that in the bedroom while you thought I was still
asleep?”
“Yes,” Gazali said grimly “but I was still unable to learn anything.”
Jayce sighed partly from dejection and partly from relief. He was curious to know about his
past, but at the same time he was scared to learn the truth. There were shadows concealing that
part of his life. Maybe they were there for a good reason. The look on his wolf’s face had been
sad, but it had also been a knowing look. Was it possible that it had knowledge of his past?
“However, I was able to find out one thing,” continued Gazali. Jayce looked up with eager
eyes. “I found no trace of magical energies on you; neither from within you nor cast upon you.”
“What does that mean?” questioned Jayce.
“It means that not only were no spells cast on you, but you did not cast any yourself. As far
as I can tell, you do not have the gift of magical ability.”
“Why would I cast something on myself that would leave me as you found me?”
Gazali gave a small chuckle, “It's not unheard of for an apprentice to dabble in powers beyond
their ability to control. More than one has regained consciousness in a strange place, undressed
with holes in their memory.”
Jayce nodded.
Gazali added with a sly grin, “In fact, Garren had several such experiences, but his was due to
nights of carousing instead of magic.”
“Maybe I should get another mystic,” Garren cut his eyes at the wizard.
“My stories are a small price to pay to retain my sage counsel,” Gazali said with a grin, “and
someone has to keep that ego of yours from getting too inflated.”
Garren turned to Jayce. His mood had become serious, “What do you intend to do now?”
“I…I ‘m not sure,” Jayce stammered.
“As I see it, you have two options,” Garren explained. “We can give you some supplies, and
you can strike off on your own.”
Jayce considered the option, but he had no idea of where he would go.
Garren continued, “Or you can become a Yellow Jackets recruit. You’ll have to work hard, but
you’ll get room, board and a little coin in your pocket. As you progress through the ranks, your
rewards will increase.”
Jayce carefully considered this option. He had a vague feeling that his wolf had led him to
these people for a reason. He did not know what that reason could be, but at least he would have
a place to call home.
“I must warn you,” Garren fixed Jayce with a hard stare, “the missions you’ll eventually be sent
on will have an element of danger. Sometimes our agents don’t make it back. To keep you and
your comrades safe, I must insist that you follow orders without question.”
Jayce met Garren’s eyes, “I understand. I’ll stay.”
| Splintered Fate |
| December 2009 |
| Serial Fiction |
| Copyright 2009, 2010 by Jason Atwood |
| Chapter 7 |
Bio:
Jason Atwood is a native of Sparta, a small town in the mountains of North Carolina. He now lives in Lilburn,
Georgia with his lovely wife Lisa and their four cats. When he's not writing, he's making a difference in the lives of
children as a pharmacist at a children's hospital in Atlanta.
Jason Atwood is a native of Sparta, a small town in the mountains of North Carolina. He now lives in Lilburn,
Georgia with his lovely wife Lisa and their four cats. When he's not writing, he's making a difference in the lives of
children as a pharmacist at a children's hospital in Atlanta.
| Return in February, 2010, for the next installment of Splintered Fate |
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