Jack Farren

                                  1. My name is Jack Farren
My name is Jack Farren. I am eighteen. The army take boys seriously and throw the girl’s opinion in the dirt. That’s my problem though. I am a girl. Sure they let girls into the army, but that’s all. You may think it’s stupid to disguise yourself as a boy, sure what’s the point? Well, firstly, it’s easier to get a job, secondly, you don’t get hassled, and thirdly I can go into a tavern without anyone looking at me strangely, do I need to go on? I am a wanderer, and I am in between jobs. I have just finished a drink in a tavern and am sitting on a stool, minding my own business. The noise of the people and the smell of smoke and drink is not that welcoming, compared to a warm bed and a hot meal.
My world is a world full of magic and dragons and gods, unfortunately. Magic comes and goes, sometimes it’s there and you can grasp it, other times, it feels as if it is never there. There are many gods, but most people pray to the Goddess, and that’s all you ever really hear.
Gazer’s-seers of things yet to come- and so on reside in the mountains to the northwest. To the east there is the ocean, where who-knows-what lives there. To the northeast is the City, as it is commonly known. The people of this land have such original names.
The forest people live in the far west, I once lived there for a time. To the south is the desert, where clans live by trading and fighting. I’ve spent time in many places and travel a lot, but right now I’m here. 
“You there, you have just been lucky enough to have volunteered in joining the army.” Says the guy who has just walked through the door, his voice sounded like he is from the north. He walks all proud like and in uniform too, but he has a black cloak on, hood thrown over him. I look at him with a confused expression and I get up. My sword worn on my back like a bow, and my bow is crossed with my sword and my quiver is worn low on my hip. Unusual? Yes, satisfactory? Yes. My skills best suite this position. My hair is short blonde and my eyes are pale blue.
“Tough, I’m not joining, go find a fanatic.” I say to him. I give him a cold look. Now, he is on his own inside and I’m not to bad with sword or a bow and I know I am a good pickpocket, which in this case won’t help me. I walk out of the tavern it is night. I stop in my tracks.
“Well, you can’t say no since you’ve volunteered.” The “Sergeant” says behind me. His face splits into an evil grin. I curse aloud and quickly unsheathe my sword from my back, and I twist to bring it across the Sergeants face. However his buddies decide to come over when they hear the sound of steel cashing. Yes, the sergeant has blocked my sword with his tough steel gauntlet.
So here I am, surrounded by the army bullies. Their bulk with no fat and their armour with dents are all overwhelming, but even more surprising is that they carry hard wooden clubs instead of swords and cleavers.
“Great.” I say, making it sound long and sarcastic. “So, what do I have to do to a horse around here?” I don’t lower my sword that I had crafted myself and neither did anyone else. My guess is, that there is a bit more than half a dozen around me. Odds are against me.
“You see Jacks, it don’t work like that, once you get a horse you’ll be half way to the mountains before we even realise.” The Sergeant is now annoying me even more, but before I can respond I hear one soldier step forward and I swing around to parry the blow, however that is a failed attempt as all the soldiers come forward. I first feel one blow to my back, then the next thing is that my sword is gone and I am on the ground, I cover my head with my hands, which does not help and feel the iron taste of blood in my mouth. They kick me hard and I swear I hear a crack. A massive blow to my head sends me rolling onto my back. The last thing I see is a crowd of black figures looking down at me and still hitting me, and I see the Sergeant looking cold and distant.
***
Joining up is a painful experience and I don’t recommend it. I wake with a groan. It is still dark and I am cold and I notice that my armour is gone and so are my weapons. I am in my undershirt and shorts and I pray they hadn’t seen or felt the bandages underneath.
“Your awake, good.” The familiar northern accent of the Sergeant reaches my ears. I feel my hands bound behind me, but my legs are free, the bad thing is I am too beat up to move. “You did better than expected Jacks.”
“My name is Jack not Jacks.” I choke. I spit out blood to one side.
“Right Jacks, I’m not going to treat you any differently than the other lads, so don’t think that just cause you’re a girl, that I’ll treat you softer.” I feel everything come crashing down. I feel my face drain of blood. This is it. All that stuff about fair treatment is gone. The other men know. I’m already dead.
“Don’t worry lad, I am the one who stripped your armour and weapons, no one else. I am the only person who knows your secret and I tend to keep it that way. Understand?” the Sergeant raises his voice at the last. I nod, big mistake! My head swims and I grit my teeth. “Answer soldier!” he shouts.
“Yes sir!” I shout and that doesn’t help me.
“I am not “Sir,” now refer to me as “Sergeant,” got that Jacks?” his tone is now mocking.
“My name is Jack.” I mumble.
“What is that?” he heard me, damn.
“Yes Sergeant!” I must have groaned because I feel freezing water pour over me. I barely hold in a gasp.
“Get up, get your armour on and then wait in here!”
“Ah, that’s a slight problem Sergeant.” I speak up.
“What?” he faces me. His face is tanned and his eyes shine a bright blue, but I am surprised that he is young, maybe two years my senior or less. His hair is light brown with streaks of blonde from the sun, but then I correct myself, his hair is matted with dirt and is short and ruffled. Yes I can see quite well in the dark, but sometimes I can be unobservant if I want to be.
“My hands are tied.” I reply. Shaking my hands behind me to empathise the reply.
“So you are.” He smiles and hits me over the head, making me pass out, again. Sweet darkness, how funny? I never did like the light that much.
---
“By the Land and Her King, I’m fed up with that.” I choke out the words. My armour is on me and the Sergeant is gone.
“Must be awake.” A big, and I mean big, man comes in and picks me up with my hands still bound, but now they are in front of me and it is manacles instead of rope. I am brought outside and it is now light. Then he takes some chain, attaches to the manacles around my wrists and ties the other end to the wagon.
“Oh-no.” I say, but oh yes. I’m dragged along with wagon, but what is even more exciting is the fast moving clouds and the fog of rain. "Just great." I mutter. Soon the rain is over us and everyone has waterproof clothing or is inside the wagons. Me? I’m soaked in seconds. My light armour is nothing much and it only makes me more uncomfortable. The men make slight comments and I glare at them from under my wet hair.
"How are you keeping up?" one of them asks. I say nothing in reply.
Well I trudge along and am tempted to scream in frustration and I can tell you, men in this particular regiment are scoundrels as they throw buckets of water at me and then throw stones. Where they got them is beyond me.
"Tired yet?" one shouts. I’m silent again, but inside I am seething. I hadn't seen the Sergeant in a while, but he is around.
--
We don't stop and the men eat their food in the wagon. I’m given nothing. The rain is still pouring and I wonder if there is a magic user creating it. I’m tempted to do something, but resistant to attract attention to myself. Some idiot pours out a potion, which from the smell, I know is flammable. Then a spark is lit and it is burning, yes the road is burning! I feel the air chill then suddenly heat up as the flames come for me. The rain stops! I stare up at a raging beast of fire. The wagon stops and shouts are heard. I just stare as the fire creature roars. That is when the Sergeant appears.
"Move!" he shouts. Of course I don't. He makes signs with his hands and mouths something. What a surprise! He’s a magic user! I know that spell wouldn't work, so I use my tools to picklock the manacles (I never used them before because we never stopped and I would have hated to attract attention) then the creature attacks me. Cursing loudly, I jump to the side, but am too slow, therefore gaining searing pain on my whole right side. Did I ever mention me being tougher than most humans? It still hurts, but now I know what it is. I step inside the fire creature, this time without burning and I just hold the thought of water and protection. My hands move quickly, while my mind stops me from burning. Then it is gone, giving us a farewell scream.
"Now, can I please stop getting treated like a prisoner?" I ask. Everyone is staring at me. I then look at my right arm and I curs, not only that the fire being back, without the flames. Strange, then it is in me. It is so painful. Necromancy is never my true calling. I can do nothing else.
The dark forest, it’s cold and it’s pulling me. The fire creature doesn’t have a host and it vanishes, I make sure of that. I feel life draining away. Getting up I walk back to life, that’s when I sense it. Far away a need for power is waking. I feel it coming towards me and I begin to run. It reaches out to me and I dive for life.
--
I gasp. I look around and see the Sergeant sitting on the wagon looking at me. It’s dark and the campfires have been made. I look back at the Sergeant. His eyes are coolly looking at me. I feel exhausted; I’m still standing sure.
"The name is Ragen, Sergeant Ragen. You have just earned freedom in this army. You weren't meant to until at least High Bridge. So, Jacks, there is a lot more to you than meets the eye." He smiles and walks other to me, he touches my shoulder and I wince, a mark is there, one of which is tender to touch. "Nice, you've got hidden powers, even in necro arts. Well then Jacks, you'd better rest up." He begins to walk away, until he sees my face.
"Jacks!" I collapse and I see his face, a flash of concern, but it’s gone by the second look. He kneels down beside me and calls for help.
"My...Name...Is...Jack." I quietly say. He hears though and gives a faint smile. Pain erupts in me and my world falls away. That’s when my senses start to go blank and a healer is called, or a helper. For me? Endless darkness until I wake up. Then there is that presence. I curse in my head, and I totally lapse into unawareness.