1.9

The boys finished their game; unsurprisingly, Carter won. Afterwards, it wasn’t too difficult for him to persuade Heron to go around to the homes of their other friends and gather them up to tell them. Heron didn’t really want to talk about it in detail or answer many questions, so for now he only told them that he was going away to stay with his godmother for a while, and the little bit about being adopted. He made it sound like the reason he was going to go stay with his godmother was to learn more about his other family.

He didn’t say it outright to Carter, but it had occurred to him that the kinds of things his godmother had told him were the sorts of things that, in stories, were always dangerous to anyone who found out about them – thus his friends would be safer not knowing. Carter seemed to understand; at any rate, he didn’t tell the others anything more than Heron said to them himself.

Then, since it was the last time they would all be together for some uncertain while, for a send-off they played a game that was a perennial group favorite; of the sort involving a lot of running around in the night with a little stealth and strategy.

Heron’s parents were waiting up for him when he got home.

Seeing that as he approached the house, he expected to find them upset or irritated at him for having gone and stayed out late, especially without having even let them know he was going over to his friend’s home in the first place.

But they weren’t angry. They met him with faces of concern and worry, his mother hugging him tight as though – for a moment – she intended to never let go.

It was because of Keri. Heron’s aged godmother had wanted to say something to him before retiring to bed for the night, and had been upset to discover that he was nowhere to be found in the house. She’d accused him of running away, though his sister found his packed travel bag was still there in his room. His parents had tried to reassure Keri that Heron wasn’t the sort to run away like that and was probably just outside with friends.

They had called for him just in case he’d be close enough to hear – he hadn’t been by that time – and Keri had gone to bed muttering darkly about how anything could happen if Heron’s enemies found him before he knew what to watch out for.

1.8

Zar was also known as Squares, Zar Squares, or Zar’s Squares. The zar was a unique piece which moved differently from the others and could not be captured by jumping other pieces over it. Each player began with one, but could earn additional zars by capturing enough of the regular pieces.

When Carter earned his fourth additional zar (to Heron’s one) and Heron still hadn’t spoken up, Carter grabbed a piece from the pile of ones that had been removed from the board already, and tossed it at Heron so that it bounced lightly off the top of his head.

“So what’s new?” he asked, with a pointed look.

Heron looked up from his study of the board with its alternating light and dark squares, rubbing the spot on his head the playing piece had hit.

“I have to leave.” He said, and before Carter could ask, Heron added: “Tomorrow.”

“Does this have anything to do with that ancient godmother of yours?” Carter asked. Pleased to see by the look on Heron’s face that it was not only a correct guess but also one that Heron didn’t expect, Carter explained in few words. “We saw her arriving earlier today.”

Heron nodded at that, and looked at the game board again.

“Well, what else?” Carter prodded, tossing another spare game piece up in the air and catching it. He would throw another at his friend if he had to. “Why suddenly tomorrow? And is your whole family going? What’s the occasion?”

Heron made as though to move one of his shorter stacks of game pieces, and then changed his mind. Leaving it where it was, he muttered: “She says they’re not my family.” He also picked up one of the spare game pieces, turning it over in his hand.

“Well,” Heron continued, “she says they are now, but they’re not my original family.” Looking up at Carter, he flipped the game piece in his hand at his friend. “Fish face.”

Heron had probably been aiming at Carter’s open mouth, but the game piece hit his chin instead. He shut his mouth, and then opened it right back up to say: “You must be teasing.”

“No,” Heron said soberly, “it’s not a joke or a game.” He then told Carter the whole story; or, at least, as much as he could remember of what Godmother Keri had said.

“Are you sure about all this?” Carter asked when Heron had finished. “It all seems a bit…”

“Like something out of a story, rather than something real? That’s what I thought. But my parents… they support the story. My Godmother really did bring me to them to adopt.”

“But what about the rest?” Carter mused, idly flipping a game piece from one hand to the other. “Are you sure she’s… well, she is really old, isn’t she? You remember how my granddad got, his last few years? He didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t anymore.”

Heron chewed his lip a moment, picking up another game piece and turning it over in his hand like he had done with the other; looking at it but without really examining it closely, just something to look at without meeting his friend’s gaze. Carter, too, made a pretense of studying the piece in his own hands, a mockery of serenity waiting on a verdict. Like when he asked his parents for something and knew that if he showed impatience or acted childish, he’d be less likely to get what he wanted – a thin film of patience over a roiling uncertainty.

What surely had only been moments made Carter feel like he was stretching thin and tight, holding his tongue with an effort. But he wanted his best friend to have as much uninterrupted time to think it over as he needed, though it strained him to wait silently.

And then with a clack, Heron snapped the playing piece from his hand down on the edge of the board. Not putting it into play, but as though selecting it beforehand for the next zar.

“She sounds as sane as ever. As sane as anyone. She knows what she’s saying, what she’s asking.”

There had been something of an air of finality to both the gesture and the words. Carter supposed that before now, Heron hadn’t truly been decided in his heart on leaving. Even if he’d agreed to it, perhaps he’d still hoped to get out of it somehow. But now? Would he really go? Heron loved his home, his family. His friends, his town, his life. Carter believed he knew it as well as anyone could know anything about Heron.

Carter looked him in the eyes, clacking his own piece onto the edge of his own side of the board. “Then you’d better go, and win for everyone. And as my mum and dad say; ‘Anything worth doing, you can’t do half-heartedly and expect to succeed. So put in your all, knowing that you also have the hearts of your family and friends to go with you all the way.’” It was the sort of thing they always said to anyone going away on a trip (especially for hunting or trading) or entering a contest of any sort that they would be trying to win. His parents had gotten such sayings from his granddad.

1.7

            The sun had already begun disappearing behind the horizon when Heron reached Carter’s house. Carter was nearly a year younger than Heron, but just as tall and in some ways more mature. He was the youngest of several children, mostly boys. All his brothers were taller than the average for boys of that province, and it was possible that Carter might grow up to be taller than all of them.

            One look at Heron’s face and Carter could tell something was up. “Let’s have a game.” he said, nudging one of his eldest brothers aside to get a lamp from off a shelf by the side door of the house. Handing the lamp to Heron, Carter muttered to his brother that they were going to the barn, and ran inside to the bedroom he shared with a couple of his brothers to collect a game board and box of pieces. As soon as he was back outside, he slapped Heron on the shoulder and nodded to his brother, who nodded back and resumed the carving he was working on.

            Carter and Heron shoved each other jovially as they walked to the barn, heading for the hayloft. With the size of family he had, Carter’s house was no place for a quiet focused strategy game. But after chores were done for the day and the horses were all taken care of and settled into their stalls for the night, the barn was a good place to go in order to not be disturbed. At the house, they’d have Carter’s brothers always leaning over his shoulder to suggest where they thought he should move his game pieces, and every five minutes or so be disturbed by Carter’s mother offering Heron something to eat, Carter’s father asking him how things were today over at his family’s ranch, or the younger of Carter’s sisters winking and trying to get Heron to notice her while also trying to act like she would never do such a thing on purpose. Which, of course, would cause the elder of his sisters to alternately laugh and roll her eyes with a harrumph.

            Focusing on the game wasn’t their only reason for the friends not wanting to be disturbed. It was something of an unspoken agreement between them, that if either of them needed to talk or get the other’s advice on something serious, they would do it over a game of Zar. Of course, neither boy ever said to the other, ‘I need to talk to you about something that’s bothering me’ – no, instead one or the other would suggest they have a quiet game off by themselves, and once they were settled in comfortably moving the familiar pieces around the board, their conversation would drift to whatever was most on their minds. There had even been a few times they had worked out disagreements with each other or hurt feelings over some insult, by first trying to defeat each other with aggressive moves in the game and secondly by expressing their anger in words, and lastly coming to some sort of understanding even if they still didn’t agree, all while playing Zar. It would be reasonably accurate to say that their friendship with each other was more firmly cemented than with their other friends, because of all the hours they had shared talking over a game they both enjoyed.

            Carter was generally better than Heron at strategy, so he won most often, but when his mind wasn’t really on the game, sometimes Heron would come up with a surprisingly good move that he didn’t see coming.

            And then there were times like tonight. Heron’s mind wasn’t on the game at all, though he was trying as hard as ever to come up with a win. Carter was winning easily, even though he was not really focused on the game either.

1.6

            Excusing himself after only eating a small portion of the soup they all had for dinner, Heron went to his room to pack a travel bag. He lingered over some of his things, spinning tops and other simple toys he’d had for a long time but hardly looked at anymore, and little gifts from friends and relatives that were nice but unnecessary. It all reminded him of the years he’d spent growing up here, never imagining that he’d ever belonged anywhere else. He also had a small collection of wooden figures he and his friends had all awkwardly carved last summer; each boy had carved several and traded with each other for their favorites. Those would have to stay behind as well. He decided to pack a spare pair of boots and his sturdiest pants and shirts for working in, plus an extra set of lighter-weight clothes that could roll up smaller and take up less space. He would wear his best boots and hat with some of his more comfortable clothes, and take a good jacket with him that his mother had made for him last winter. He also packed a sweater and long wool underpants, since it occurred to him that he might still be gone when winter came. He would bring the hunting knife his father had given him for his last birthday; it would fit in the top of his boot and didn’t need to take up space in his travel bag... but into the bag went an extra utility knife and a sling that he hadn’t practiced with in a while since he hadn’t been very good and snares had just been a more reliable way of getting rabbits around here anyway. Last, he added a flint and whetstone in a little tin box, plus a needle and thread his mother had always told him to take with him when he was away from home. He could fix a simple tear and sew a button on, but never could do it so that it looked at all like his mother could sew. Whenever he’d fixed something on his own, his mother had ended up fixing it better later on, so he only had to stitch things together in a very temporary way.
 

            Heron paused for a bit, thinking his mother would likely either re-pack his bag for him, or just add more things she thought he would need. Mother. It was strange to think she wasn’t his real mother. And his father, and... He realized his vision was getting a little blurry in a watery way, and he blinked a few times. Should it really bother him that much?

             Sadie came into the room, pausing to knock lightly for a moment before entering. “Heron-” She held out a small bowl of chopped fresh fruit with cream on top of it. Heron had forgotten that he’d bought some at the market that day, that his mother had planned on for a dessert.

             Heron took the bowl from his sister’s hand and set it on a low shelf. He hugged Sadie tight, not able to really say anything yet.

             After a moment, Sadie quietly said: “Even if you’re not my real brother... you really are my brother anyway. You’ll always be my brother, because of how good a brother you’ve been to me. Even though you tease me.” And with that, Sadie pulled back from the hug and pretended to punch Heron’s arm in mock payback.

             “I tease you?” Heron pretended to be disbelieving as he blocked Sadie’s punches. “You’re the one who is always teasing!”

             “I learned it from my brother!” Sadie declared, sticking out her tongue and laughing. She aimed a fake kick at Heron’s shin, and grinned when he jumped back a pace. “If you don’t want your dessert, I’ll eat it for you.” she said.

             “No, I’ll eat it.” Heron said, then reached for a small bag instead. “I know Uncle Rupert says MarshDuck feathers are best for arrows, but I thought these would be good for practice.” He opened the bag enough to show Sadie the chicken feathers he had collected. “Have him teach you to make arrows so you can show me when I get back, okay?”

             Sadie nodded and took the bag Heron held out to her. “And I’ll practice lots so I can have something to be better at than you!” And with an impish grin, she darted off to put the bag of feathers in her room.

             Heron ate his dessert, and then left his packed bag sitting on his bed, while he snuck out into the fading light of the setting sun, to run down the road to the home of his friend Carter.

1.5

Keri sipped her tea again, while watching Heron from behind her cup. She waited quietly, as though to see what Heron would say this time. But the boy was speechless. So much so, that he couldn’t even manage another one-word expression of disbelief like ‘what’, ‘how’, or ‘why’. He just blinked, looking blankly as though he wasn’t even staring at Keri anymore. As though he wasn’t staring at anything.

Heron’s father put a hand on his shoulder, and his mother asked, “But why now? With such short notice? What’s happened?”

Keri put down her teacup, placing both hands on her knees and leaning forward as she spoke gravely. “Please understand that it is only because the situation requires it. I’m sorry, but there is nothing I can do to change that. I thought there would be more time, until I was presented with two crucial pieces of information. Firstly, recent reports confirmed to me that not only are the Coheretist forces gathering strength as their leaders look for the Kaherian Relics, but they are also looking for Heron. I had hoped that I effectively hid all traces of it, but it seems they found out there was a survivor from the massacred Kaheri family. I don’t know what they are planning, but I’m certain they are determined to either use or destroy him. Secondly, a number of old documents I have in my possession tell of prophecies about the Relics, warning that the true quest for one of the Kaheri to find the Relics must be embarked upon when the stars are aligned properly, roughly indicating late summer in a year when the alignment of the joint sets of-”

Keri paused, brushing back a few wisps of white hair that had fallen in front of her face. She then straightened up a little, saying: “I’m sorry, I should just skip to the point of it. Well, I had thought that several different years over the next two decades would fit the description, but very recently I acquired and managed to interpret an older document containing a more complete telling of the prophecies. It indicates an additional convergence of stars that would only align with the others every 100 years. After the next new moon, it will be too late to start the quest under the correct formation of stars.”

Heron’s father nodded slowly. “Everyone knows the most accurate prophecies have always been those which refer to the stars. But the next new moon is less than ten days away.”

“Eight days.” Keri said, and then fixed her gaze squarely on Heron. Her hands shook a little, with anxiety now clearly visible in her posture and expression.

“Heron, you have been chosen by the Hands of Fate. This is not something that can simply be passed on to someone else. If the Relics are to be kept out of the wrong hands, it must be you that finds them, and the quest to that end has to be embarked upon immediately if it is to be successful.”

“You gotta do it!” Sadie exclaimed, running in from the kitchen doorway to throw her arms around Heron in a hug. “You can’t let people who killed your other family get away with it! ‘Specially if they’re gonna come after you!”

Heron hugged his little sister. If they’re gonna come after me? If they do, my family -- this family will be in danger. I can’t let that happen. He looked at his Godmother and said: “I’ll do it.”

Keri leaned back, allowing herself to relax a little. She nodded at Heron. “Good. We must leave by dawn tomorrow. Pack lightly.”

Heron nodded, but really was thinking over ways he could ask for more time. It would be a burden to his parents to not have him around to help with the ranch. And he really had wanted to be there when his uncle came to visit next month. And he wanted more time with his friends before leaving on a long journey. He didn’t even know how long he might expect to be away, but somehow had the feeling that even if Keri knew, she wouldn’t want to tell him. Most likely it would depend on things none of them could know for sure yet. And no matter what he might say, Godmother Keri would tell him that they had to leave in the morning without fail; he was certain of it, from the serious way she had already spoken of the urgency of his leaving.

He took a deep breath and decided against any attempt to argue or negotiate with Keri. His Godmother was sternly stubborn whenever she had made up her mind on anything, and Heron never thought of himself as being good at things like negotiation anyway.

0.1 Prologue (read first, if possible)

Prologue

(five days before arriving at Heron’s house)

All the reports Keri received these days told her the same thing as her own readings of the night sky. She knew that time was getting short, but it wasn’t yet clear how much time was left. Hopefully it would be just enough... or all that she had dedicated her life to would be lost.

She did not like the uncertainty there, but after years of watching for the right signs she was feeling relieved to finally see some. Yes, it had been a long time to wait. She was old now, but still in good enough health to pace around her study; anxious but somehow appearing relatively calm for how impatient she felt. 

Keri had sent her messenger off again as soon as he’d reported the latest updates to her. Now, all she could do was wait for her other hired man to finish preparations to drive her to Little Hastingburn.  A 5-day trip to the middle of nowhere, to fetch someone who might not successfully make it through what had to be done. Though he might not succeed, there was no other option. Keri wished she could manage everything herself, but that was impossible. The one chosen for the task had to accomplish it himself, and the time had to be now. There could be no more waiting; she had to set things in motion quickly and bet everything on this one hand.

Pausing at her desk momentarily, she picked up a magnifying glass and peered once again at a very old parchment. The first things to have been written on it were horribly faded, and had been overwritten more than once; the parchment re-used for some kind of estate bookkeeping, and later on for a letter. But Keri couldn’t focus on deciphering more of the oldest writing on it, she was too anxious. Frustrated, she dropped the magnifying glass back onto her desk, and resumed pacing, reflecting on what she had already managed to learn from the document.

The one who she needed to set on his way towards finding the Kahy Relic would have many difficulties with the task. She couldn’t tell him everything, of course, or he would surely decline. She’d best not tell him about the singular Kahy Relic yet, but if he could find the rest of the Kaherian Relics, he’d surely find the way to that one as well. The rest of the Relics mattered in a way, but the most important would be the one that was once known as the Kahy Vector. No mere relic--though it was called so now--the item was believed to be of such great power and utility as to be the deciding force in any battle or contest of wills. She hoped the old document she’d been studying would tell her more about it--it was essential that she discover more before it was found, so she’d have some idea of how it could be safely handled. When the one seeking the Kahy Relic successfully found it, the very finding of it would seal his doom. That was the part she really had to avoid letting him learn.

1.4

Heron stared agape. This sounded like some kind of story for old folks to tell over roasting fires at festival times. Granted, Godmother Keri was certainly old, but this wasn’t time for a festival or for idle stories. And Keri spoke like one who completely believed what she was saying, not like someone simply repeating a story. But it seemed unbelievable to Heron nonetheless. He looked at his parents, and saw his father nodding at him encouragingly. His mother patted his shoulder again.

“Are... you saying...” Heron swallowed before continuing. “...you’re saying that my entire family was killed over some antiques they had collected?” He thought maybe they were supposed to be more than just antiques, but didn’t want to think about that yet.

But Keri wasn’t going to let that statement go by without correcting it. And then some. “Antiques? No.” She shook her head emphatically. “Listen here, boy. Long ago, there was a powerful family led by those who desired power above all else. They sought to conquer all of the known world and gathered up every powerful weapon they could get, recruited every capable fighter they could buy with all the wealth they had amassed. And they sought out every form of magic that would help them get more wealth and power. After a long war, they were defeated by an alliance of those who opposed them, directed by wise and capable leaders. Those who were power-hungry were defeated, their army and skilled fighters either changed their allegiances or were annihilated. Their wealth was plundered and all of the weapons and magic they had gathered was destroyed, except for a handful of powerful magic items that proved to be indestructible. They were considered too powerful to be trusted to any one person or family, so they were locked away and put under the guard of a neutral society of wizards sworn to uphold peace and never do harm to anyone or anything under any circumstances. But over time that society of wizards died out, and their responsibilities passed to a local family of nobility that had traditionally supported the wizards. They were hardly remembered by anyone outside of their own province anymore, and they and the relics of the ancient war were only mentioned in obscure legends. But the wizards left behind a prophecy that whoever would next seek after those relics to gain power would be defeated by one of the Kaheri family. Generations passed, and many of the Kaheri didn’t know where the relics were locked away, much less that they had ever been more than legend. But they are real, and they are needed again. The ones who killed your family must be stopped. And prophecy has declared that you are the one to stop them, as the last of the Kaheri.”