The Shadows of Evil NEW BEGINNING

It was the dead of the night when Faern awoke to the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance.  He’s had another Dream. He crawled out of bed and stirred the coals to life in one of the braziers near his bed, one of many that kept the dormitory warm.  The weak moonlight shining through the window at the foot of his bed provided enough light to draw, and so he sat and began his Dream Drawing.  Nearly two dozen other boys were snoring contentedly, unaware of what was about to transpire.  Faern sketched what he could remember from his dream in a series of small pictures no larger than half a page in his book.  The first was a symbol he had never seen before.  The background appeared deep red in his mind, but Faern didn’t have that colour to draw with.  The second was a horseman wearing a dark cloak, standing at the edge of a forest, looking into the distance, the trees behind him revealing several more like him.  Only the first horseman’s face could be remember in any detail, the one who was obviously the leader of the group.  He had a smooth-shaven hawk nose face with high cheekbones and a slender, almost fragile, build.  Wrinkles told of many years of worldliness and bespoke wisdom unlike any Faern had yet encountered.  He pondered over these two images, unsure what they meant, until he was distracted by the sound of horses outside the orphanage.  He left his drawing book and pencil by the fire and went towards the winder.  It was hard to see anything in the darkness, but Faern could roughly make out five figures on horseback, outlined by the moon’s waning light.  A door opened below Faern , the lantern in the Master’s hand flooding the courtyard with light.  It swayed as he scurried outside and greeted the strangers and Faern was shocked to see the man from his drawing…



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Sarn looking up to the winder on the second floor, felt eyes on him and his companions.  He didn’t see anything, and dismissed it from his mind as the far Ophan0Manster bowed his way towards them.



“Honoured Ones, I wasn’t expecting you until the day after next, but I have room that I can give you in my guesthouse.  Please, come in and warm yourselves.



Sarn motioned to a servant behind him, a boy really, who led the horses around the property.  His companions followed him inside, glad for the warmth within.  They shock off their cloaks and Rikar the Orphan-Master hung them from hooks beside the door.



“Show me to the boy,” said Sarn.



Rikar shifter on his feet, “he is sleeping, Honoured One.  Surely you would like to spend the night and rest yourselves and your horses…?”



“Bring me to him,” he demanded, more forcefully this time.



Rikar nearly squeaked as he quickly turned and indicated that eh should be followed towards the stairs leading into the darkness of the second floor.  Sarn turned to his companions.



“I will bring him down.  Prepare the Test.”



Sarn followed Rikar into the gloom; the staircase snaked around a full half-turn and emerged on the top floor.  There was only one door as the entire top floor was a large dormitory, and as Sarn followed the man through the door, he saw it held around 24 beds.  Rikar led him towards the window directly across the room from the door.  Sarn noticed a drawing book hastily discarded near the foot of the bed with a similar representation on his face staring up at him below the sign of the Rytar, his following, as well as that of his companions.  He stooped and picked it up, a slight tingling sensation travelling through his fingers to his wrist.  A chill passed through him and a memory surfaced from long ago, a whisper he had chased in vain during his youth.  He looked up to the bed Rikar was standing beside, and for the first time in many years, felt true fear at what this boy could represent, what his existence meant for humanity, and what was to come.



He peered into the gloom beside Rikar and sought the face of the boy who was destined to an unimaginable future.  He was lying peacefully in his bed, youthful serenity painted across his features.  Sarn nearly mourned for the boy and what he must do.  He almost pulled himself away, almost decided to leave this boy to his peaceful life in the orphanage, but Sarn knew that he couldn’t escape his destiny, he must forge ahead.



“You cannot fake sleep to me.  I can see through it, into your mind, so get up and stop this charade.”  The boy opened his eyes with a fearful expression, obviously unsure of how to proceed.



“Well, let’s have a look at you.  How old are you again?”  Sarn asked as the boy crawled meekly out