In his dreams, Severin was watching his brother, Petrus the rogue Seidren, battle against Tyrel Diere of the Thunder Fist clan. The image began, frozen on the scene in his mind as Tyrel jumped forward, one of his fists cocked back, the other hand extended out with fingers splayed in front of him in a leaping punch. Thunder mana circled his hands in a tight spiral which extended halfway down his forearms. He had close cropped brown hair, and it stood out inasmuch as it could.
Across from him, frozen in Severin’s mind of his dream was his brother, with a small concentrated smile playing on his lips. Voidish fire played across his shoulders. He shared Severin’s lighter hair, but where Severin had light hazel eyes, Petrus had dark brown eyes.
Then the scene moved, and Petrus dodged the electrified punch, and sprayed fire in a wave as he danced to the left in the sparring circle. Flecks of purple hued fire touched on Tyrel and burned out quickly, but he hissed in obvious pain.
Then Petrus was striking and blows were exchanged with flurries of mana. Both of the fighters were moving incredibly fast, fast enough that the quicker exchanges of the fight seemed to blur to Severin’s young eyes. He found himself cheering his brother on, deflecting a particularly strong move, and then striking back successfully. To his surprise, he noticed that he wasn’t alone.
Severin heard whispers from the crowd. “The rogue Seidren is only sand Seidren, but watch how he fights.” As Severin listened quietly, and heard other members of the room expressing quietly either admiration for the outmatched boy, or grudging respect. Severin cringed as his brother took a crashing blow which sent him to the floor, but he rolled with the impact and popped back onto his feet, rolling his shoulder which had caught the blow with a cheerful grimace.
The fight continued and before long, the outcome was obvious. Petrus was losing. He couldn’t match the superior mana of a Gravel Seidren, or the strength apparent in his strikes and blasts of mana. Even though Petrus fought with more skill and temerity, he couldn't match the power differential. So it was that finally, Petrus overextended in a focused fireball, which Tyrel dodged, then forced his hands forward and a lightning blast struck Petrus, throwing him well away from the circle and rolling across the floor in a steaming heap, the smell of burning hair wafting gently behind him.
There was silence in the room. Then members of the crowd were rushing forward. Severin’s parents were first, but many others followed, surrounding Petrus and helping him to his feet. His knuckles were tinged red from bloodied knuckles, and he had a small drop of blood running from his hairline. He looked as the village members surrounded, asking after his health, and generally taking care of him.
The speaker rose from his place, and spoke loudly. Severin didn’t initially hear what he was saying, as the speaker was fighting the hubbub to be heard. Eventually he managed to be heard over the din.
“The victor is the Diere clan. No reparations will be taken from them. This concludes this matter, will the parties please exit the hall, so other matters may be attended to.”
Severin glanced over at Tyrel before he ran to congratulate his brother and the great showing, and noticed with a start, that the young Seidren was glaring daggers at Petrus. His fists were balled tightly, and he stalked over to his gathered friends.
Severin hit Petrus with a full body hug as soon as he could worm his way through the throng. His brother lifted him and spun him around before setting him back on the floor. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, big brother!” Severin almost shouted. Petrus ruffled his hair playfully as he responded. “Little bro, I’ll always have your back.”
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Later that night, Severin sat around the dinner table with his family. He was telling Reila, his little sister, about the intense fight. Severin was too preoccupied to notice the uncomfortable glances shared by his parents. As Severin belabored his brother’s heroism, he smelled the woodsmoke, but after a minute, Ternic, Severin’s father, announced. “Petrus, check the stove, I smell fire.”
The family waited in terse silence, and the smell of smoke grew. “Sev and Reila, grab your things, we’re leaving. Severin ran to his room, and quickly grabbed his things in a quick travel pack. Smoke was growing in his room, and he ran into the hallway. He could see Reila in her room, packing quickly. Severin danced impatiently in the hall for several seconds before he ran in to help her pack.
Reila was stuffing her third bag with clothing and items from her room. “Come on, Reila, we’ve got to go. There’s a fire!”
“Fire? But da said it was the stove?”
Severin grabbed two of Reila’s bags, throwing them over his shoulder. He grabbed her hand and yanked her out into the hall. Smoke and ash filled the air, as soon as he left the family’s living quarters, which were attached to the back hall of the Hearth and Hammer. As he went towards the door which led to the rear exit, he began coughing vigorously, and heat assaulted him. Severin fell to the floor, which was blessedly cooler, and dragged his sister with him.
As they lay there, inching towards the door, Severin cowered as he heard an explosion which rocked the whole inn. There was another explosion, and another. The third explosion brought with it a body, tumbling through a smoking hole in the wall. The figure rose, thunder racing across its hands as it leapt back through the wall into the common room. Severin crept over to the hole in the wall and watched his brother fight the Seidren. Fire was visible through the front windows and smoke was everywhere.
Petrus was a fire/shadow Seidren, and as Severin watched, he noticed the flames seemed to flow towards Petrus, and the dark was illuminated by him and four or five other Seidren who paced around him in the common room. Severin knew how wolves attacked large prey, and he couldn’t help but draw a similar connection to how Petrus was being harried by his attackers.
Severin saw the front door, and saw his path to safety. He crawled back to his sister, who was having trouble breathing, and her ash covered face was streaked with clear paths where her tears streamed. Severin dragged on her arm until she began numbly following him. He boosted her up and into the common room through the hole made by the Seidren battle, and followed her out. Reila noticed the room, and together they stole across the room until they reached the front door. The door was stuck, as if something from the outside was blocking it.
“Petrus, the door is stuck. Help us!” Severin called. Petrus turned his head quickly, and noticed his sibling huddled by the door. Fire gathered around him, and he sprinted towards the wall. Petrus hit the front wall of the inn in a fiery explosion, and tumbled through the thick wooden planks of the wall.
Severin was right behind him, dragging Reila. They ran until the heat of the rapidly burning building was no longer oppressive, then they turned and watched their parent’s dreams go up in smoke.
The attacking thunder fist Seidren had realized they were losing the benefits of anonymity, and that their mana might give them away. Severin watched the attackers dart away into the dark, and Petrus was standing over Severin and Reila protectively.
Faces had gathered to watch the conflagration from the dark windows of nearby houses and alleys. A scream was heard from the building that sounded like Severin’s mother. Petrus looked sharply at the Inn, and then sprinted back into the burning Inn. He emerged later, gasping, with Severin’s mother in his arms. He dumped her onto the dry grass in front of the inn with a meaningful look at Severin, before running back into the Inn.
Severin and Reila dragged their mother away from the heat of the building and towards the road. Her head bumped along roughly on the road, but she coughed weakly from time to time. Once they had dragged mother away, they sat and waited for Petrus.
He, nor Ternic, never showed.
