A Banner Torn (Book 1 Complete)

Doran:

The afternoon sunlight slanted sharply through the windows, casting long, golden stripes across the worn wooden floor of Doran's home. He sat rigidly at the heavy oak table, fingers tightly gripping his cane, his knuckles turning white with tension. The quiet hum of late-day insects from the village fields outside did little to soothe the unease that tightened his chest.

Kaelid was late again. This had become routine, he and Rannek disappearing for hours, returning at sunset with a handful of trout and vague smiles that never quite satisfied Doran's questions. They were getting older, their excuses more practiced, the innocent truths diluted by omission. Doran recognized those half-truths all too well. He'd once been a boy who'd explored too far, lied too often, and paid dearly for it. The old ache in his leg throbbed a reminder, the scar tissue refusing to let him forget the price of carelessness.

His eyes moved involuntarily toward the distant line of trees visible through the window, the forest that bordered the eastern edge of the village, dark and deep with secrets better left undiscovered. His jaw tightened reflexively at the sight, memory pricking the edge of his consciousness. It always started like this: a quiet moment, an idle glance toward shadows, and suddenly, his ghosts would start to stir.

"You're overthinking again," murmured a soft voice beside him, painfully familiar, gently teasing.

Doran flinched, turning abruptly, finding Marek leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, looking as real as ever, even as Doran knew, rationally, that his friend had been dead for years. Marek's dark eyes were calm, patient, offering gentle reproach.

"I'm just thinking clearly," Doran muttered in response, glaring at the apparition. "Someone has to."

"Thinking, yes," Marek agreed gently. "But clearly? You see wolves behind every tree, raiders at every river bend."

"Because I know what waits behind those trees." Doran's voice lowered, almost a growl, eyes briefly distant. "We both do."

Marek smiled sadly, nodding once, and faded like mist caught in sunlight, leaving Doran alone again, fighting to push back the swelling tide of old terrors.

The door suddenly creaked open, breaking his concentration. Kaelid stepped through, fishing pole in hand, a small bundle of trout dangling from a string, his face flushed with exertion. His bright eyes narrowed cautiously as they met Doran's stern gaze.

"Uncle," Kaelid greeted, voice carefully neutral. "I'm sorry we came back late."

"Fishing again, hmm?" Doran's voice was heavy with skepticism. He studied his nephew intently, noting every small detail: the mud splattered on the boy's boots, leaves clinging stubbornly to his hair. "Every afternoon now, and yet our dinners rarely reflect such dedication."

Kaelid shrugged, shifting slightly. "We caught a few today. Enough for tonight at least."

Doran let silence stretch between them for a long, uncomfortable moment, his expression unreadable. "You boys lose track of time rather easily these days."

Kaelid's gaze flickered momentarily to the side, a subtle tell. "Sometimes."

The tightness around Doran's chest intensified. He forced himself to breathe slowly, fighting the irrational urge to lash out. He wasn't angry at Kaelid, he reminded himself sharply. It was just fear, a deep, gnawing fear that the forest, the world, would take everything again, just like before.

"You've been near the eastern crossing again," he finally said, tone flat, declarative rather than accusatory. "Huntsman Tannin saw wolf tracks along the riverbank."

Kaelid froze, hand tightening visibly around the pole. "Wolves?" he asked, voice deliberately steady. "We haven't noticed any tracks."

"Tannin is no fool," Doran answered sharply. "He knows what he's doing. He also mentioned other oddities. Strange marks and signs in the trails, the game acting skittish, unusual for this time of year."

Kaelid hesitated, clearly weighing his words carefully before replying, "We haven't seen anything dangerous."

"Yet." Doran punctuated the word with an ominous weight. "You think danger announces itself clearly, boy? You think it waits politely for you to notice?"

He stood slowly, leaning heavily on his cane as pain shot sharply through his damaged leg, forcing him to clench his jaw. The stiffness of the movement made Kaelid take a cautious half-step back.

"I'm sorry, uncle. We'll stay closer to the village."

Doran sighed heavily, softening slightly at the boy's earnest apology. Kaelid meant well, always had. It wasn't intentional defiance, only youthful curiosity, curiosity that had gotten good men killed before. Men like Marek. Doran glanced instinctively toward the empty spot where the apparition had been, now seeing only fading sunlight.

"No," Doran said gruffly, voice gentling just enough to ease the tension between them. "You'll do better than that. Tomorrow, you and Rannek are coming with me. Brannic spoke with me about taking you two to the mine. He'll introduce you to proper hunting techniques. If you insist on wandering into dangerous territory, you'll do so with proper skills."

Kaelid's eyes brightened instantly, a hopeful smile breaking through the wariness. "He mentioned it in passing… you gave him permission to take us?"

"Yes," Doran confirmed, though inwardly he felt a sharp stab of anxiety at the idea of deliberately placing the boys near potential threats, even under supervision. "But you understand this isn't a game. It's dangerous work. There will be discipline, rules to follow, consequences if you disobey."

"We'll listen, Uncle," Kaelid said, his voice bright with sincerity. "We won't let you down."

Doran nodded slowly, feeling a familiar twist in his chest, a mix of pride and deep worry he could never fully silence. "See that you don't."

Kaelid, clearly eager, quickly set aside his fishing gear. "I'll tell Rannek right away!"

As the boy rushed out again, excitement evident in his step, Doran slowly eased himself back into his chair, letting the cane drop heavily beside him. Marek flickered back into view, watching Kaelid disappear down the path.

"You did well," Marek murmured softly, no judgment, only comfort. "He needs guidance, not chains."

"He needs to survive," Doran said thickly, voice hoarse. "They all do. I won't lose another."

"You won't," Marek replied softly, fading again, like a passing wisp of smoke in the spot he'd occupied moments before.

Doran sat silently for a long time, eyes fixed once more on the distant trees. The forest shadows deepened as daylight waned, each moment amplifying the quiet dread curled tightly in his stomach. Tomorrow would be difficult, a careful balance of freedom and protection, danger and growth.

The ghosts in his head would watch too, always waiting at the edges of his vision, ready to remind him of old failures and losses. But he would do better this time. He had to.

Doran clenched his fists, leaning back in his chair as the sun set slowly, taking comfort, in the simple, fleeting comfort that tonight, at least, Kaelid was safe.

Brannic:

Brannic's claws clicked against the whetstone as he sharpened the edge of his hunting spear. The rhythmic scraping filled the pre-dawn quiet of his workshop, a sound as familiar to him as his own heartbeat. Outside, the village still slept, though soon the roosters would announce the new day. He preferred these quiet moments before the world stirred, when he could prepare without interruption.

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The spear was an extension of himself, crafted from blackthorn wood and tipped with his own special alloy. He had carried it through countless hunts and battles, and today it would serve a different purpose, guiding two young humans as they tested their mettle.

His mate, Kerethin, entered the workshop silently, her dark green scales catching the amber glow of the banked forge. "You're up early," she observed, her voice soft in the quiet room.

"The boys will be here soon," he replied, running a claw along the spear's edge. "I want to be ready."

Kerethin's tail swished across the packed earth, thoughtful and slow. "You're taking them to the copper mine?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "The miners have reported increased activity from the vermin. It's a good opportunity."

"And you think they're ready?" Her question carried no judgment, merely curiosity.

He set the whetstone aside and stood to his full height, rolling his shoulders. "Ready enough. They've been training with that slime creature all summer. I want to see what they've learned."

His mate approached, examining the supplies he had laid out. Small packs with dried meat and hard bread. Water skins. Torches. A medical kit. Two short knives, simple but well-crafted, sized for human hands.

"I don't expect serious trouble, but it's best to be prepared."

Kerethin replaced the knife and looked up at him, her eyes reflecting the dim light. "And what of their... changes?"

Brannic's scales tightened slightly against his body, a subtle tell that few besides his mate would notice. The question touched on something that had been troubling him since his encounter with the boys and the slime in the forest. He had observed them carefully in the weeks since, noting small differences in their movements, their reactions. Nothing obvious, but enough to raise his instincts.

"That's part of why we're going," he admitted. "I need to see how they respond to real danger, not just training exercises."

A soft knock interrupted their conversation. "They're here," he said, gathering the packs.

Kerethin pressed her snout briefly against his in a gesture of affection. "Be watchful," she said. "Not just of the dangers below, but of what emerges from within them."

Rannek and Kaelid stood outside, their breath forming small clouds in the cool morning air. Both boys were dressed in sturdy clothes, boots laced tightly, hair tied back from their faces.

"Master Brannic," Rannek greeted, the taller boy's voice cracking slightly. "We're ready."

He handed each boy a pack and one of the knives. "These are tools, not toys. Treat them with respect."

"Follow me," he said, stepping past them into the village. "We have a long walk ahead."

The eastern sky was just beginning to lighten as they made their way through the sleeping village. At the eastern edge, Doran, Kaelid's uncle, intercepted their path, leaning heavily on his cane.

"Blacksmith," the man greeted. His eyes moved to his nephew. "Kaelid."

"Uncle," the boy replied, straightening his posture slightly.

"You're taking them to the copper mine?" Kaelid's uncle asked.

"As we discussed, they'll be safe enough with me."

The human veteran nodded. "Mind what Master Brannic tells you," he told his nephew. "The underground is no place for heroics."

"I will, Uncle," Kaelid promised.

The forest was coming alive with morning sounds as he set a steady pace. After an hour of walking, he called a brief halt by a small stream.

"The copper mine has been worked for generations," he began, his voice low and steady. "But not by humans, or by my kind. The miners are a race of stone people, living deep beneath the surface."

"Stone people? Like... made of rock?" Kaelid's eyes widened.

"In a way, their bodies are formed of living stone, though some say they were created long ago by ancient magic. They're called the Petrakahrn by most surface dwellers, though they have their own name for themselves in their grinding language."

"Are they dangerous?" Rannek asked, apprehension in his voice.

Brannic's mouth curved in what passed for a smile among his kind. "Not unless you attack them first. They're mostly peaceful, preferring to mine and craft rather than fight. But they're formidable when roused to anger."

He gestured for the boys to continue walking. "The Petrakahrn contract with me to keep certain tunnels clear of vermin. Creatures that interfere with their mining, but which they prefer not to deal with directly."

"What kind of creatures?" Kaelid asked, hurrying to keep pace.

"Small lizards that eat the support timbers. Walking fungus that contaminate their food stores. Humanoid pests they call 'delvers' that steal tools and collapse tunnels," he listed matter-of-factly. "Nothing too dangerous if you're careful, but numerous enough to be a problem."

As they continued their journey, the forest gradually thinned, giving way to rockier terrain. The path began to climb, winding up into the foothills. By mid-morning, they had reached a plateau where the trees grew sparse and large rock formations jutted from the ground like the bones of the earth.

"We're close now," he informed the boys. "The mine entrance is just ahead."

They followed him around a large boulder, and suddenly the entrance was visible, a dark opening in the hillside reinforced with heavy timber supports. Iron lanterns hung on either side, unlit in the daylight hours. Stone markers carved with unfamiliar symbols flanked the entrance.

"Those are Petrakahrn boundary markers." He approached the entrance and ran a claw over one of them. The stone vibrated slightly under his touch, and a deep, almost subsonic rumble emanated from within the mine.

"I've announced our presence," he told the boys. "They appreciate the courtesy."

He reached into his pack and withdrew three small crystals, each about the size of a human thumb. They glowed with a soft blue light when he held them up.

"Light crystals," he explained, handing one to each boy. "One more thing before we enter," he said, his tone becoming more serious. "Inside, you'll feel a rhythm through the stone, a regular pulse. That's the Petrakahrn synchronization beat. They use it to coordinate their mining operations, like a heartbeat for the entire mine."

"Does it hurt?" Kaelid asked, clutching his crystal tighter.

"No," he assured him. "You'll feel it through your feet at first, then eventually in your chest if we go deep enough. It's just vibration."

He looked at both boys carefully. "Stay close to me at all times. If I give an order, follow it immediately without question. The mine can be dangerous for the unwary."

"We understand, Master Brannic," Rannek replied, his voice steady despite the nervousness he could smell on him.

The temperature dropped noticeably as they moved deeper, the sounds of the forest fading behind them. The tunnel sloped gently downward, supported at regular intervals by thick wooden beams. The walls were marked with veins of copper ore, glinting dully in the crystal light.

After about fifty paces, the tunnel widened into a small chamber where several passages branched off in different directions. A low, rhythmic vibration became noticeable through the stone floor. It came at regular intervals, like a giant heart beating deep within the earth.

"The synchronization pulse," Brannic confirmed. "You feel it now?"

They nodded, Kaelid shifting his weight from foot to foot as if testing the vibration.

A grinding rumble echoed from one of the side tunnels, resolving into heavy footsteps. A figure emerged from the leftmost tunnel, unlike anything the boys had ever seen. Standing slightly shorter than an adult human but much broader.

Its body appeared to be formed of stone, with joints of crystal that glowed with inner light. It's lower torso extended slightly rearward with 4 thick legs extending down. They were shaped like they were massively muscled even though they were solid stone.

It's features shifted subtly as it moved, as though the stone itself were alive and reshaping. Its face was roughly humanoid, with deep-set eyes that shone like embers and a mouth that was a simple horizontal line. Instead of hair, crystalline formations rose from its head in a crown-like pattern. Its head was set low between its shoulders, giving the impression it had no neck , yet it turned and looked around with ease.

The stone being moved with surprising grace, each step perfectly timed to the pulse that vibrated through the chamber. It stopped and inclined its upper body in what was clearly a bow.

"Brannic-of-the-Surface," it greeted, its voice like stones grinding together yet somehow forming recognizable words. "The Deep-Pulse welcomes you and your young ones."

He returned the bow. "Greetings, Pulse-Keeper. I bring these young humans to learn and to help clear the upper tunnels as agreed."

The Petrakahrn's glowing eyes shifted to study the boys, who stood frozen in fascination. "Young. Soft-bodied. Will they endure the Deep?"

"They will stay in the upper levels only," Brannic assured the stone being. "They are here to learn their first lessons of the underground."

The stone creature considered this, its crystalline crown glinting as it tilted its head. Then it nodded, the movement precisely aligned with the pulse beat.

"The Rhythm-Master approves," it stated. "The usual arrangement stands. Clear the vermin from the marked tunnels. Payment will be provided upon completion."

The Petrakahrn turned its attention directly to the boys. "Surface-children," it addressed them, "respect the Pulse. Move with it when possible. It will guide you through our realm."

With that, the stone being turned and retreated down the tunnel, its footsteps fading into the background rhythm of the mine.

"That was a Pulse-Keeper. They interact with surface dwellers when necessary."

"It was amazing," Kaelid breathed, his eyes still fixed on the tunnel where the Petrakahrn had disappeared.

"They're an ancient race," he told them. "Some say they were created as servants long ago, but if so, they've long since become their own masters."

He gestured to the right-hand tunnel. "That's our path. The Petrakahrn have marked the tunnels that need clearing with copper sigils. We'll check each one systematically."

As they prepared to continue deeper into the mine, he observed the boys carefully. They were handling the strangeness well so far, but the real test would come when they encountered their first underground denizens. Especially under pressure, he suspected those changes might surface in unexpected ways.

"Remember," he cautioned as they set off down the right-hand tunnel, "stay alert and stay together. Not all of the mine's secrets are friendly."

The boys nodded, their faces set with determination as they followed Brannic into the deeper darkness, the pulse of the mine beating steadily beneath their feet like the heart of a slumbering giant.