Alrin (The Alrin Series Book 1) Read online

  Alrin was seventeen, only two years younger than his brother, and despite being the same height, he felt like a child next to him. Thrain had that type of athletic and brawny build that can be achieved only through tireless years of dedication. On the very day he turned ten years old (the earliest age at which guild masters would accept new students), Thrain had been invited to be a part of the strength guild by its leader, Bogdan Blackwell. The relentless training over the last nine years had chiseled him into the fine-tuned machine he currently was.

  Alrin had always been proud of the commitment his brother put into his training. The 12-1-4 on his hand was very well deserved, and Alrin shared in his excitement every time Thrain came home having increased another level after several months of training.

  Except for their difference in size, Alrin and Thrain looked remarkably similar. Each had shaggy blond hair that often shadowed his deep, emerald-green eyes. Alrin’s hair was slightly longer and extended down past his shoulders, which definitely did not help in making him look any older. From what their mother always said, they’d inherited several of their father’s warriorlike features. Two of these were their prominent cheekbones, and eyebrows that always made them look far more stern and unapproachable than they actually intended.

  Without a word or even a nod, Thrain joined him on the tree stump and breathed in the serenity of the surroundings just as the first edge of brilliant orange cracked over the mountaintop, bringing a hint of warmth to the valley.

  “How’s the arm?” Alrin asked.

  “Almost healed, actually. Whatever you did yesterday, it seems to be working.”

  “About that…,” Alrin said. “What did I do exactly?”

  “You don’t remember anything?”

  Alrin shrugged. “Only pieces.”

  Thrain drooped his head and let out a muted sigh. Reliving what had happened the day before seemed like the last thing he wanted to do. “We tracked that stag all the way to Batara,” Thrain said. “Do you remember that at least?”

  “Yeah,” Alrin said, looking down at his hand. “But that’s about it. After that, only a weird symbol on my hand and feeling…unstoppable.”

  “Have your levels changed at all?”

  “No. Still 2-1-3,” Alrin replied, slowly rubbing the numbers with his thumb as if he were massaging a scar, and hoping they would change. “But how did I go from hunting at the top of the cliffs to suddenly healing your arm at the bottom? I must have busted my head on something.”

  “The deer was right below us,” Thrain said, exhaling heavily. “You walked up to the edge and strung your last arrow…”

  “And that’s when I fell?” Alrin asked.

  “I wish…,” Thrain answered, but then cracked a smile and shook his head as if trying to take back what had just come out of his mouth. “Well, I mean that would’ve been better than what actually happened,” he said. “You were out of arrows and the deer didn’t run off, so I thought I could drop a stone on him and knock him out.” He suddenly clenched his jaw. “We never would’ve got that big of a deer home anyway. I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course I had to choose the biggest rock I could find. Right when I was about to drop it over the edge I guess I just lost my footing. Somehow the weight of the rock landed on my arm and pinned me to the ground.”

  He reached over and gripped his shoulder with the opposite hand, exploring the extent of the damage. “And that’s when you rushed over.” He looked over and saw Alrin hanging on his every word. “Man, I wish you could remember. It was more weight than I’ve ever seen you lift. I thought surely you would’ve leveled just from that alone. Once I was able to slip free, I rolled out of the way…and I guess the weight must have toppled you over the edge.”

  Alrin could hear a knot form in his brother’s throat.

  “It felt like the world was in slow motion. I remember you looking back up and I’ll never forget the look on your face. It’s what kept me up all night. You seemed…at peace. Like you chose me instead of you. Then, just as you were about to hit the ground, a flash of light shot out of your hand and you just…stopped. You were still floating by the time I made it down.” Thrain paused and stared ahead. “But that’s not even the weirdest part. When you finally woke up, you said something.”

  Alrin could feel his heart pounding.

  “‘The sun rises and the sun falls, then hurries back to where it rises…’”

  Alrin breathed in deep and focused his eyes on the nothingness in front of them. The calmness of the morning was starting to give way to the sights and sounds of the forest’s coming alive. Alrin wrapped his jacket around him tighter, and the intoxicating scent of the smoldering pine from their chimney entered his nostrils.

  “Maybe we should go speak with Halvdan today?” Alrin offered finally.

  “Yeah, you had me at maybe.”

  They both let out a nervous but much-needed laugh.

  Aurora hollered at them from the cabin doorway, “Thrain! Alrin! Breakfast is ready!”

  They quickly hopped to their feet and headed back down the dirt path toward their cabin.

  “How ’bout we don’t tell Mom any of this?” Thrain said.

  “Agreed.”

  Chapter Two

  Everglen

  “You two were up early,” Aurora said, setting their breakfast down and joining them at the table.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” Alrin answered. “Too much on my mind.”

  Thrain sent a sharp kick under the table, then, after making sure their mother wasn’t looking, threw him a reminding glare.

  “Oh. Why’s that?” Aurora asked compassionately.

  Alrin’s eyes met Thrain’s nervously, and each waited for the other to redirect the conversation.

  “It was just really cold this morning,” Thrain blurted out just in time. “Once we were up, it was really hard falling back to sleep.”

  Alrin shot him an annoyed look and subtly rolled his eyes. Both statements were perfectly true, he noticed, but their reason for having lost sleep was definitely not the cold. “Where did we get these?” Thrain continued, reaching for a bowl of ripe berries and giving Alrin a reassuring wink. “They’re delicious.”

  “Sirena brought them over yesterday while you two were out hunting,” Aurora answered. “And nice try changing the subject…” The boys froze. “You know, it wouldn’t be so cold in here if you two would finish splitting that wood like I’ve asked you a thousand times.”

  Alrin breathed a sigh of relief. But only a short one. Despite Thrain’s best intentions, he’d inadvertently brought up something they had been putting off for weeks, and he could tell that Aurora meant business. Any time their mother was on the verge of another very long lecture, she had this peculiar habit of inserting a thousand times into everything she said. Then that certain look would creep up on her face—the one that somehow only mothers had the ability to summon when they were about to bring up the topic of unfinished chores.

  “Winter isn’t too far off and it isn’t going to chop itself,” she said sternly. “I figured you of all people would jump at the opportunity to show off your strength,” she said, looking to Thrain.

  Thrain groaned. “Even if I chopped wood for a month, I probably still wouldn’t level,” he said, darting his eyes to his ensignis as if they were sworn enemies. “Besides, Alrin should be the one to do it. He could use the experience more than I could.”

  “There it is,” Aurora exclaimed, dropping her fork to the table. “Experience this. Experience that. Ever since you were accepted into that infernal guild, all you ever think about is leveling!”

  “This is the only family in Everglen where that’s a bad thing,” Thrain muttered under his breath.

  Alrin lowered his head and braced himself for what he was sure would be at least a week’s grounding. But miraculously, Aurora didn’t hear Thrain.

  “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you…” but she stopped herself and took a deep breath instead.

  Thrain
must have completed the sentence in his head as Alrin had, because their eyes met and it took nearly everything they had not to burst out laughing.

  “There is more to life than your ensignis,” she continued. “That is why I’ve worn this since the two of you were born.” She lifted her arm and revealed a dark leather glove very similar to the one Halvdan always wore. Intricate patterns spiraled throughout the leather, separating shades of slightly different browns and golds. “I’ve kept this on so that the two of you might one day realize that there is more to people than just the numbers on our hands.” She lowered her arm back down to her side. “All your father ever cared about was his ensignis, and look where that got him,” she said, her voice hardening. “It crept into everything he did until eventually there was nothing left. It consumed him—and took him away.”

  She rose from her chair and carried what she could with her to the sink, which unfortunately included a nice hunk of ham and flake of biscuit that Alrin was still delicately eyeing. It was there that she paused, her eyes unintentionally fixed on one of the dishes that she rested on the counter, as if suddenly lost in a deep and painful memory.

  Aurora rarely allowed any emotion to appear on her face that she didn’t intend to be there. There were only two people in the world who knew the difference between when she was upset and when she was genuinely saddened, and they both watched her very carefully from either side of the table. The difference was subtle. She would turn very quiet and then the kind and gentle smile that she wore would dim ever so slightly. There was only one thing Alrin knew of that would make this happen, and it was talking about their father.

  “If the only thing a person develops in themselves is what is shown on their hand,” she muttered, “their life will be filled with emptiness. Remember that while you train. The both of you.”

  “We will,” Alrin assured her. “And the wood will be finished today. We promise.”

  Alrin’s voice seemed to bring her back. The concern on her face washed away and her smile returned. “Thank you, my dears,” she said, walking up to Thrain, brushing the hair out of his eyes, and kissing him lightly on the forehead. She then turned to Alrin, likely to do the exact same thing, but he jerked away before she could reach him, bashfully guarding his forehead with the back of his hand.

  She did this quite often, but in truth, Alrin pretended to care only when Thrain was around.

  “I don’t mind that you want to improve yourselves,” she continued, grinning at the sight of Alrin trying desperately to wipe away a kiss that had never been planted. “And don’t think I’m trying to keep you from doing what you enjoy. I just want your interests to stay simply that—interests. If you are to train, then you must train for no other reason than yourselves. The moment you become focused on beating someone else is the moment you begin to lose yourself.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” they both answered.

  “So,” she said, turning again to the dishes in the sink. “Enough of that. What will you both do today, I wonder?”

  “Thrain and I were thinking about going into town,” Alrin said in the most ordinary way he could manage. “Maybe even go see Halvdan.”

  “Oh? Has he invited you into his guild?”

  “No, not yet,” Alrin answered, making his disappointment clearly known. “He only invites those who show the most promise…but his guild would be the only one I would consider. Watching what they can do is fascinating.”

  Alrin went to the counter where Aurora was setting the dishes after washing them and began to dry them with a hand towel.

  “Yeah,” Thrain snorted. “Tell her about the time Iarund hit you in the back of the head with that ball of water,” he said, laughing to himself. He took the plates Alrin had dried and returned them to their proper place in the cabinet.

  “Well, that wasn’t particularly fascinating,” Alrin admitted, “but being able to summon an orb of water from a fountain and control it in the air certainly is.”

  “That Iarund is a menace,” Aurora sharply interrupted. “You two need to avoid him as best you can.”

  “Well, that’s a pretty difficult thing to do in a town like this,” Alrin said, rolling his eyes. “I can’t even go a day without bumping into him or at least hearing about his wondrous achievements. He is the top student of both the strength and magic guilds, after all.”

  “Soon to be the second highest in strength if I have anything to say about it,” Thrain said, overly flexing one of his bulging arms in Alrin’s direction.

  “Now, what did I just finish telling you!” Aurora hollered.

  Thrain looked at his mother and quickly relaxed his pose. “Oh, I’m only joking, Mother,” he said, grinning. “You of all people know I’m the most humble person in all of Everglen.”

  At this, her expression turned from anger to irritated amusement. “There’s that bragging about being humble again.”

  Thrain grinned wildly. “Well, at least I’m the best at something.”

  Aurora tried her best to fight the smile that was forming across her face, but she quickly gave in and smacked him on the arm. “Oh, get out of here already,” she said, shaking her head hopelessly.

  Once Thrain and Alrin were finished helping her, they grabbed their jackets from a small coat closet by the front door.

  “Need anything while we’re out?” Thrain paused to ask. Alrin wasn’t quite as successful in concealing his eagerness to leave as he nearly crashed into Thrain at the doorway.

  “Not that I can think of,” she said, eyeing Alrin suspiciously, “but Sirena will be along any minute. You should wait to thank her for the berries. You know, she really looks up to you, Alrin. She’s always talking about how you’re the only one in Everglen that is nice to her.”

  “Her father’s archery range is on the way,” Thrain offered impatiently. “We’ll stop to thank her if we don’t see her beforehand.”

  “All right, then. Send my regards to Halvdan, won’t you? And be careful today!” Aurora watched as they bolted out the front door, Thrain first, and Alrin tailing close behind. “And don’t forget about the wood!” she hollered after them, to which the only reply was the slamming of the front door.

  Outside, Alrin followed Thrain south to the main road. The sun was well above the horizon and was glistening off the surface of the pond next to their cabin. He was excited to finally talk to Halvdan about what had happened. He had more questions than he knew what to do with, but about halfway to the road, a nervous pit grew in his stomach and he stopped. To his left was a small trail that split off down a hill and into a neighboring field. This was his normal path into town.

  It wasn’t faster by any means. In fact, it was completely out of the way, but the trail wound next to the Narew River and cut through some of the nicest parts of the valley. The best part about it, however, was simply that it wasn’t the main road, and this meant that Alrin could avoid the mocking and insults that his ensignis would most assuredly earn from anyone passing by.

  “Come on, Alrin,” Thrain hollered back at him. “If anyone says something today, they’re gonna have to answer to me.”

  Alrin hurried up next to his brother, trying to nonchalantly shrug off the remark as if that weren’t what he had been thinking about, although both of them knew that it was. Together they followed the main road north a mile or so, beyond Mrs. Rider’s sea of cornfields, until the road split around a large oak tree. Many years ago (before Alrin knew the implications of his ensignis), they would each choose a different path around the tree and race to reach the other side. But that was a long time ago. Now Alrin wouldn’t dare to leave his brother’s side.

  Surprisingly, their stroll into town turned out to be rather uneventful. As far as he knew, Alrin made it the entire way without even a scowl. Not that he would have noticed, since he watched his feet the entire way and quietly rehearsed what he was going to say to Halvdan. Then, just before the magic guild came into view, a small voice stopped them in their tracks.

  “Hi, Al
rin!”

  He turned around to see a small girl, no higher than his elbow, run up and hug him around the waist. She peered up at him through a disheveled mess of tangled brown curls and gave him the biggest freckle-cheeked smile.

  “Hi, Sirena!” Alrin said, hunching over and returning her embrace. “What do you have there?” he asked, noticing a dazzling new bow slung over her shoulder. “Did Sagittari make it for you?”

  “For my birthday.” She nodded excitedly. “I’ve been practicing all week like you showed me, but I haven’t hit nothing yet. Did you like the berries I picked for you? I found them growing in some bushes by the back fence when I was trying to find my arrows.” She said it all very quickly and barely paused for a breath.

  “They were delicious,” Alrin answered. “We were on our way to thank you right now, in fact.” It was hard not to smile at the energetic mumblings and slurred pronunciations of the little six-year-old. Also, he couldn’t help but feel responsible for some of her missing arrows.

  Sirena’s previous bow could have likely been outshot by a similar-size toy. The actual bow was made from a switch off a tree and the string itself was about as useful as a shoelace. When Alrin had last helped her, he’d tightened the bowstring as best he could and showed her the greatly exaggerated angle she would need to even come close to one of her father’s targets.

  Equipped with Alrin’s well-intentioned advice and her new masterfully crafted bow of ash wood and tautly spun flax, there was no telling how far she was now oversailing her mark. Alrin’s only hope was that Sagittari, the master of archery himself (who also happened to be Sirena’s father), hadn’t already witnessed the repercussions of his advice.

  “If you would like,” Alrin offered, “I would be happy to come by the range sometime to help you with your new bow.”

  “I would love that,” she said, lowering her head bashfully. “That’s so nice.” She began fumbling with the edge of her jacket and kicked around a few rocks at her feet.