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Description
“It is better to be silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.”

- Mark Twain

Chapter Two - Shadow of a Doubt

Craku woke up the next morning, a yawn escaping from his gaping mouth. Sunlight shone out of a diminutive window. It was unusually quiet this morning. It was a revivifying change from the bustling of the afternoon.
Craku’s head fell back to the bed as he thought about the night before, with Rynn, and Jek. Even though he wasn’t serious about joining the city guard, Jek still knew more about him than Craku was comfortable with. Was it so easy for others to see through him? It seemed that no matter what he did, he couldn’t mask himself. He had known Jek for years, but last night Jek had surprised him. It made Craku question whether or not he was fooling anyone.
The only question left now was: did Craku possess what it took to keep going?

As Falshyo turned a corridor, he saw light pouring from a miniature stained glass window high up on the wall. It was morning already… and by the angle of the stream of light, it was getting late into it. If he didn’t get out of the castle soon, he could be in more trouble than he bargained for.
The fact that the castle interior was as twisted and confusing as the politicians it served only added to the already daunting task of escaping. Of course, that’s just escaping. It did no good to escape if he was caught.
So his chances of getting out were, if any, slim. Well, that’s just how he liked it. Now, where was that door to the east hall…?

Craku forced himself out of bed. He walked uneasily to the exit and left the barracks behind him. As he walked down main street, Craku’s stride caught up with him; the drowsiness of sleep all but absent now.
If today went well, Craku thought, he was going ask Asch if he could be an apprentice under him. His father had always told him to think about his career, and though Craku’s relationship with his father was more than a little unsteady, his father did have a point when it came to work. Well, this was Craku’s shot at his own future.
The quiet morning was more than welcome to Craku. A few lonely merchants were strolling down the avenue, making their way out of the city. Their steps made soft thumps on the road, keeping time with the muffled sounds of a city that had yet to wake. Craku felt the dry desert breeze meandering east to the sea. He felt strangely peaceful.
Just as he began to lose himself in his thoughts, he was pulled into an alleyway. Craku found himself looking up at a cloaked figure. The man was so tall that Craku couldn’t see the sun behind him, which made the towering figure seem like no more than a silhouette.
The wind had picked up. It was as though the man had caused the change. Power seemed to radiate from the great man. The soft gusts of wind began to sing in Craku’s ears, crescendoing into a chorus. The gale struck his face like a whip until it was raw and stinging.
“Do you feel it?” The man asked, his rough voice was clear amidst the screeching wind.
Craku fell to his knees and covered his face with his arms to shield himself from the airborne sand that stabbed his raw skin like knives, “What is this?” He screamed in exasperation, “What did you do?”
The man sighed at Craku’s accusation, “This storm is not my doing. I’ve simply shown you reality.” Craku didn’t have the slightest idea what the man had meant by this as the mysterious character continued, “When your veil of bliss begins to tear, all the world you know will come crashing down around you. You will see me again before that time comes. Then we can finish what our ancestors started.” With that, the dark figure walked away, disappearing into the sandstorm. When he was gone, the wind died back down and Craku found himself in the deserted alley.
Craku was breathing heavily. He brought his hand to his face; it stung at his touch. Leaning up against the adobe wall for support, Craku forced himself to his feet.
What the hell did that guy mean? Craku was frustrated. Either he’s crazy or… Craku pondered this for a second …or he’s right. He couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe – just maybe – the mysterious man had been right. He couldn’t believe that a man like that would be out of his mind. And Craku certainly wasn’t; his raw flesh attested to that notion.
He needed to find someone who would understand what the man had meant. His interest had been piqued. But he would have to wait until tomorrow. He had told Rynn he would help today. Besides, this ‘veil’ could wait – at least for a day.

Falshyo peered cautiously through the doorway. Sunlight spilled onto his face. He had found what he had been looking for. A window – his escape.
Falshyo was shaking as he inched his way through the door. He was so close now. If he was caught…
“There he is!” Shouted a guard who had rounded the corner behind Fal, “Stop, thief!”
Falshyo’s heart skipped a beat as it sank. He pivoted to face the hack, who was standing less than twenty meters from him – much too close for comfort. The guard clapped his hands together, and the sound of thunder rang through the halls. A wave of air burst from where the burly guard stood, and headed straight for Fal.
Falshyo swore as he dove from the surge. The initial wave missed him, but the force of it threw him against the wall which cracked and fractured from the force of the blast. It was common knowledge that Casenh guards were taught to use magic. However, it wasn’t nearly as common for guards to know such powerful magic. Damnit! Why did I have to get stuck with the one hack who can beat me around like dead weight?! Fal screamed to himself. He gripped his knife; he didn’t plan on killing anyone. Stealing was morally sound. He needed the money. But murder? You can’t justify murder. His knife was for tactical use only.
Recovering quickly, Falshyo sprinted towards the enormous window, which had been completely shattered by the guard’s magic. He skidded to a halt at the edge of it, swallowing as he realized he was three stories from the ground. Not the most desirable height for jumping from.
More hacks rallied behind the first one – half a dozen in all. They were jeering at Fal, they thought they had won. They didn’t know Fal. He wasn’t about to lose.
He turned around calmly, “You’ve played well, men,” He began. “You,” He pointed at the first guard, “What’s your name?”
The guard spit at Falshyo’s feet, “Get ‘im, men!”
Falshyo held up his hand to them, “I suppose I don’t need to know. I’ll remember your face. As for the rest of you, I bid you farewell.” He snapped his fingers. The resounding crack stopped the guards in their tracks. When they looked back up to see him, he had disappeared.
As he reappeared behind the burly guard, he dropped to the floor and promptly kicked the hack’s legs out from under him. The man fell to the ground with a thud. But before anyone else could react, Fal turned tail and made in the opposite direction.
Heh, how was that for magic, bastards?
Fal ducked down another hall. So, he had lost them for a moment. His only problem now was getting back down to the first floor.
He raced through countless halls. The castle was, for the most part, very gloomy. The musty smell didn’t do much to cheer the place up, either. Torches lined the walls, making a feeble attempt at lighting the hallways. However, the cold, ominous stone walls seemed to swallow the best part of the light and heat given off by them. Even his footsteps were muffled by the dark and the silence.
Falshyo swore out of frustration, Where did the stairs go?
As if in answer, he turned the corner and almost fell down a flight of steps. Falshyo flailed his arms in an attempt to keep himself from losing his balance. He sighed with relief when he found himself steady at the top of the stairway. Wasting no time, Falshyo bounded down the steps to the next floor.

When he finally reached the first floor, Falshyo tore through the main hall. The exit was in sight. He scampered towards the main entryway as fast as his toothpick-thin legs would carry him.
He burst out of the castle exit, relieved and astounded that he had made it out of the castle alive and not in shackles. It was a miracle – or just short of one.
Falshyo quickly made his way to a lonely alley where he could catch his breath. He slumped to the dusty ground out of sheer fatigue. He would only be a few minutes, as he couldn’t stay in one spot for long. Surely by now the castle hacks would have realized that he had escaped and would be searching the streets for him.
He was right. He could hear their raised voices above they bustle of merchants and tradesmen.
The afternoon was sweltering. Falshyo mopped beads of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His thin shirt and sack cloth pants were soaked with perspiration.
It took every bit of reserve strength Fal had left to stagger out of the small alleyway.
Falshyo felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. His hands flew to his head, clutching it as he fell to the earth, “Ow!” He wailed. He looked up to face his attacker. Wouldn’t you know it; Casemei was looking down on him, a burnt-out torch in her hand.
“Sorry, Fal.” She whispered to him, and she brought the torch down on his head once more.

Craku stepped out from the warm glass shop into the cool night air. Rynn and her parents were closing up shop and they had told him to take a break. He didn’t want to be left out of their conversation – which he knew was bound to be about him. Craku pressed his ear against the door, straining his ears to make out what they were saying. The door was thick, however, and all he could understand was his name a few times.
They stopped chatting after a minute and got up to leave. Craku scampered away from the door, fearing that he would be caught eavesdropping. They stepped out of the door, unaware that Craku had attempted to invade their privacy.
“Craku,” Asch spoke in his soprano voice, “Will you be showing up tomorrow?”
“No,” Craku replied, “I have some business to attend to. However…” Craku paused for a moment, “I would be honored to apprentice under you.”
Craku could see Rynn beaming at him out of the corner of his eye. She must be near as excited as he was, for they were both sure that Asch would accept. He was a kind man and father.
A grin spread across Asch’s face as he spoke up, “Of course!”
It seemed no one could bear to sit still any longer as the four of them reached for each other and were soon locked in an embrace. They were joyous, for Craku had always felt at home with them; and they gladly accepted him into their family.
Before long Asch and Teri departed to their house on the west side of the city, leaving Craku and Rynn together.
“So,” Rynn inched closer to Craku, “I’ll be seeing you more now, won’t I?”
“Considerably,” Craku drew his lips close to Rynn’s.
Their mouths were less than an inch apart, “I’ll be looking forward to that,” She said in a playful whisper. They leaned into each other, filling the void between their lips.
Their lips brushed lightly against one another. Craku brought Rynn’s serene form into his caress. As he held her, he couldn’t remember a time when he had felt this sincerely happy.

Craku walked carefully along the outermost streets of the city, where the more secretive merchants and dealers were set up. Most of the buildings were little more than wooden huts. He kicked up dust in the road with his sandals. As if in defiance, it rose up into his face and choked him. How am I supposed to find anything here?
The sun was beating down from above him. Amazingly, there wasn’t much noise here; opposed to the inner streets of the city where you could scarcely hear yourself think. Needless to say, there wasn’t anyone here to make noise. The avenue was almost deserted.
Craku glimpsed a slim man in a flowing black cloak, who had dodged into a small adobe shed. It seemed like as good as any place to start looking; as he had to start somewhere. He approached the dwelling cautiously. As he neared the door the man had ducked into, he saw it. A symbol was painted with a golden substance on the wooden door to the enclosure. It depicted a snake tied in a knot, choking itself, devouring a great bird.
Craku stood, transfixed, staring at the golden symbol. As if he was possessed, Craku brushed his fingers against the symbol. As he did, he felt power rush within his veins. It fed him, satisfied him. He couldn’t let go; regardless, he didn’t want to.
He felt his skin burning with the raw energy, the sinew of his muscle was engulfed in power. He was being consumed by the intensity, and yet he couldn’t will himself to remove his hand.
Craku’s vision became blurred. He felt unstable. It was as though the ground had given away under him. His knees buckled and he crashed down, through the ground into oblivion.

Description
“It is better to be silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.”

- Mark Twain

Chapter Two - Shadow of a Doubt

Craku woke up the next morning, a yawn escaping from his gaping mouth. Sunlight shone out of a diminutive window. It was unusually quiet this morning. It was a revivifying change from the bustling of the afternoon.
Craku’s head fell back to the bed as he thought about the night before, with Rynn, and Jek. Even though he wasn’t serious about joining the city guard, Jek still knew more about him than Craku was comfortable with. Was it so easy for others to see through him? It seemed that no matter what he did, he couldn’t mask himself. He had known Jek for years, but last night Jek had surprised him. It made Craku question whether or not he was fooling anyone.
The only question left now was: did Craku possess what it took to keep going?

As Falshyo turned a corridor, he saw light pouring from a miniature stained glass window high up on the wall. It was morning already… and by the angle of the stream of light, it was getting late into it. If he didn’t get out of the castle soon, he could be in more trouble than he bargained for.
The fact that the castle interior was as twisted and confusing as the politicians it served only added to the already daunting task of escaping. Of course, that’s just escaping. It did no good to escape if he was caught.
So his chances of getting out were, if any, slim. Well, that’s just how he liked it. Now, where was that door to the east hall…?

Craku forced himself out of bed. He walked uneasily to the exit and left the barracks behind him. As he walked down main street, Craku’s stride caught up with him; the drowsiness of sleep all but absent now.
If today went well, Craku thought, he was going ask Asch if he could be an apprentice under him. His father had always told him to think about his career, and though Craku’s relationship with his father was more than a little unsteady, his father did have a point when it came to work. Well, this was Craku’s shot at his own future.
The quiet morning was more than welcome to Craku. A few lonely merchants were strolling down the avenue, making their way out of the city. Their steps made soft thumps on the road, keeping time with the muffled sounds of a city that had yet to wake. Craku felt the dry desert breeze meandering east to the sea. He felt strangely peaceful.
Just as he began to lose himself in his thoughts, he was pulled into an alleyway. Craku found himself looking up at a cloaked figure. The man was so tall that Craku couldn’t see the sun behind him, which made the towering figure seem like no more than a silhouette.
The wind had picked up. It was as though the man had caused the change. Power seemed to radiate from the great man. The soft gusts of wind began to sing in Craku’s ears, crescendoing into a chorus. The gale struck his face like a whip until it was raw and stinging.
“Do you feel it?” The man asked, his rough voice was clear amidst the screeching wind.
Craku fell to his knees and covered his face with his arms to shield himself from the airborne sand that stabbed his raw skin like knives, “What is this?” He screamed in exasperation, “What did you do?”
The man sighed at Craku’s accusation, “This storm is not my doing. I’ve simply shown you reality.” Craku didn’t have the slightest idea what the man had meant by this as the mysterious character continued, “When your veil of bliss begins to tear, all the world you know will come crashing down around you. You will see me again before that time comes. Then we can finish what our ancestors started.” With that, the dark figure walked away, disappearing into the sandstorm. When he was gone, the wind died back down and Craku found himself in the deserted alley.
Craku was breathing heavily. He brought his hand to his face; it stung at his touch. Leaning up against the adobe wall for support, Craku forced himself to his feet.
What the hell did that guy mean? Craku was frustrated. Either he’s crazy or… Craku pondered this for a second …or he’s right. He couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe – just maybe – the mysterious man had been right. He couldn’t believe that a man like that would be out of his mind. And Craku certainly wasn’t; his raw flesh attested to that notion.
He needed to find someone who would understand what the man had meant. His interest had been piqued. But he would have to wait until tomorrow. He had told Rynn he would help today. Besides, this ‘veil’ could wait – at least for a day.

Falshyo peered cautiously through the doorway. Sunlight spilled onto his face. He had found what he had been looking for. A window – his escape.
Falshyo was shaking as he inched his way through the door. He was so close now. If he was caught…
“There he is!” Shouted a guard who had rounded the corner behind Fal, “Stop, thief!”
Falshyo’s heart skipped a beat as it sank. He pivoted to face the hack, who was standing less than twenty meters from him – much too close for comfort. The guard clapped his hands together, and the sound of thunder rang through the halls. A wave of air burst from where the burly guard stood, and headed straight for Fal.
Falshyo swore as he dove from the surge. The initial wave missed him, but the force of it threw him against the wall which cracked and fractured from the force of the blast. It was common knowledge that Casenh guards were taught to use magic. However, it wasn’t nearly as common for guards to know such powerful magic. Damnit! Why did I have to get stuck with the one hack who can beat me around like dead weight?! Fal screamed to himself. He gripped his knife; he didn’t plan on killing anyone. Stealing was morally sound. He needed the money. But murder? You can’t justify murder. His knife was for tactical use only.
Recovering quickly, Falshyo sprinted towards the enormous window, which had been completely shattered by the guard’s magic. He skidded to a halt at the edge of it, swallowing as he realized he was three stories from the ground. Not the most desirable height for jumping from.
More hacks rallied behind the first one – half a dozen in all. They were jeering at Fal, they thought they had won. They didn’t know Fal. He wasn’t about to lose.
He turned around calmly, “You’ve played well, men,” He began. “You,” He pointed at the first guard, “What’s your name?”
The guard spit at Falshyo’s feet, “Get ‘im, men!”
Falshyo held up his hand to them, “I suppose I don’t need to know. I’ll remember your face. As for the rest of you, I bid you farewell.” He snapped his fingers. The resounding crack stopped the guards in their tracks. When they looked back up to see him, he had disappeared.
As he reappeared behind the burly guard, he dropped to the floor and promptly kicked the hack’s legs out from under him. The man fell to the ground with a thud. But before anyone else could react, Fal turned tail and made in the opposite direction.
Heh, how was that for magic, bastards?
Fal ducked down another hall. So, he had lost them for a moment. His only problem now was getting back down to the first floor.
He raced through countless halls. The castle was, for the most part, very gloomy. The musty smell didn’t do much to cheer the place up, either. Torches lined the walls, making a feeble attempt at lighting the hallways. However, the cold, ominous stone walls seemed to swallow the best part of the light and heat given off by them. Even his footsteps were muffled by the dark and the silence.
Falshyo swore out of frustration, Where did the stairs go?
As if in answer, he turned the corner and almost fell down a flight of steps. Falshyo flailed his arms in an attempt to keep himself from losing his balance. He sighed with relief when he found himself steady at the top of the stairway. Wasting no time, Falshyo bounded down the steps to the next floor.

When he finally reached the first floor, Falshyo tore through the main hall. The exit was in sight. He scampered towards the main entryway as fast as his toothpick-thin legs would carry him.
He burst out of the castle exit, relieved and astounded that he had made it out of the castle alive and not in shackles. It was a miracle – or just short of one.
Falshyo quickly made his way to a lonely alley where he could catch his breath. He slumped to the dusty ground out of sheer fatigue. He would only be a few minutes, as he couldn’t stay in one spot for long. Surely by now the castle hacks would have realized that he had escaped and would be searching the streets for him.
He was right. He could hear their raised voices above they bustle of merchants and tradesmen.
The afternoon was sweltering. Falshyo mopped beads of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His thin shirt and sack cloth pants were soaked with perspiration.
It took every bit of reserve strength Fal had left to stagger out of the small alleyway.
Falshyo felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. His hands flew to his head, clutching it as he fell to the earth, “Ow!” He wailed. He looked up to face his attacker. Wouldn’t you know it; Casemei was looking down on him, a burnt-out torch in her hand.
“Sorry, Fal.” She whispered to him, and she brought the torch down on his head once more.

Craku stepped out from the warm glass shop into the cool night air. Rynn and her parents were closing up shop and they had told him to take a break. He didn’t want to be left out of their conversation – which he knew was bound to be about him. Craku pressed his ear against the door, straining his ears to make out what they were saying. The door was thick, however, and all he could understand was his name a few times.
They stopped chatting after a minute and got up to leave. Craku scampered away from the door, fearing that he would be caught eavesdropping. They stepped out of the door, unaware that Craku had attempted to invade their privacy.
“Craku,” Asch spoke in his soprano voice, “Will you be showing up tomorrow?”
“No,” Craku replied, “I have some business to attend to. However…” Craku paused for a moment, “I would be honored to apprentice under you.”
Craku could see Rynn beaming at him out of the corner of his eye. She must be near as excited as he was, for they were both sure that Asch would accept. He was a kind man and father.
A grin spread across Asch’s face as he spoke up, “Of course!”
It seemed no one could bear to sit still any longer as the four of them reached for each other and were soon locked in an embrace. They were joyous, for Craku had always felt at home with them; and they gladly accepted him into their family.
Before long Asch and Teri departed to their house on the west side of the city, leaving Craku and Rynn together.
“So,” Rynn inched closer to Craku, “I’ll be seeing you more now, won’t I?”
“Considerably,” Craku drew his lips close to Rynn’s.
Their mouths were less than an inch apart, “I’ll be looking forward to that,” She said in a playful whisper. They leaned into each other, filling the void between their lips.
Their lips brushed lightly against one another. Craku brought Rynn’s serene form into his caress. As he held her, he couldn’t remember a time when he had felt this sincerely happy.

Craku walked carefully along the outermost streets of the city, where the more secretive merchants and dealers were set up. Most of the buildings were little more than wooden huts. He kicked up dust in the road with his sandals. As if in defiance, it rose up into his face and choked him. How am I supposed to find anything here?
The sun was beating down from above him. Amazingly, there wasn’t much noise here; opposed to the inner streets of the city where you could scarcely hear yourself think. Needless to say, there wasn’t anyone here to make noise. The avenue was almost deserted.
Craku glimpsed a slim man in a flowing black cloak, who had dodged into a small adobe shed. It seemed like as good as any place to start looking; as he had to start somewhere. He approached the dwelling cautiously. As he neared the door the man had ducked into, he saw it. A symbol was painted with a golden substance on the wooden door to the enclosure. It depicted a snake tied in a knot, choking itself, devouring a great bird.
Craku stood, transfixed, staring at the golden symbol. As if he was possessed, Craku brushed his fingers against the symbol. As he did, he felt power rush within his veins. It fed him, satisfied him. He couldn’t let go; regardless, he didn’t want to.
He felt his skin burning with the raw energy, the sinew of his muscle was engulfed in power. He was being consumed by the intensity, and yet he couldn’t will himself to remove his hand.
Craku’s vision became blurred. He felt unstable. It was as though the ground had given away under him. His knees buckled and he crashed down, through the ground into oblivion.