In the Shadows of Greatness

Chapter 1

1352, Autumn

Rowan’s day started off the way it usually did: He’d done his exercise, ate a light breakfast, more exercise, and finally met his father in the training room for his daily thrashing. Garrev looked his son up and down from across the sparring ring and clicked his tongue in the usual fashion, disappointed. “She’s making you soft, boy. You should be cherishing the wounds you receive. Let each one be a lesson and a reminder of how to avoid it in the future.” He was referring, of course, to the fact that while his mother supported his dedication to his training, she also insisted on healing his wounds with her magic as soon as the sparring was completed.

Rowan winced and dropped his head at his father’s reprimand. If he was nothing but one giant bruise, how was he even supposed to move to put up a fight? Even with healing, it’s not like the blows didn’t hurt at the time he got them.

As the boy’s head dropped, another tongue click was the only warning before his father crossed the large distance between them in the blink of an eye. “Stay aware of your opponents! Don’t take your eyes off them!” Rowan received his first bruise for the day from an elbow to his chest, providing enough momentum to lift the child off of his feet, and propel him about ten feet backward. If nothing else, the child was learning to take a hit, and was able to catch himself still standing, feet sliding along the ground until he stopped. Clutching his new wound in pain he replied through clenched teeth, “yes, Father.” Rowan caught his breath, and took his stance, eyes forward, to wait for the next attack.

Garrev glared at Rowan for a moment, before dropping into his own fighting stance, one that favored a crouching form and lower center of gravity for his smaller opponent. “I commend you for your desire to improve, Boy. Now, if you would actually start to do it, we could get somewhere.” Garrev started circling slowly to Rowan’s left, his weaker side, looking for an opening. “You’re still not ready for this, yet you insist on coming back, day after day. Again, I commend your dedication, but…” He launched himself forward again, timing his rush in the middle of Rowan’s step. It only shaved a fraction of a second off of his reaction time, but his father didn’t seem to be exceptionally generous with holding back today. The sweep took Rowan’s legs out from under him, and the forearm across his chest drove him to the floor, knocking the breath right out of the boy.

Father glared down at son while Rowan struggled to catch his breath. “But,” he said again. “I can only hold back so much, and you don’t have enough skill even for that. Your mother is making you soft, and you’re letting her. Tch.” That expression, the “Tch,” seemed simple, but for his father usually conveyed a lot more than one would think. In this case, it was extreme disappointment mixed with what seemed like a bit of boredom. “I’m not sure why I even bother wasting my time on you like this. Get up.”

Did his father’s words seem to contradict each other? Yes. Yes they did.

For the next several minutes, the one-sided sparring match continued. Rowan got back up after every knockdown, some faster than others, but every time, nonetheless. He had to blink away tears at times, but still he stood strong. His father hardly ever said it to him directly, but it was no secret that he constantly compared Rowan to his older sister, Amelia. She was a prodigy in just about everything she tried, including sneaking away from home for an adventure at the age of eight that culminated in her helping to defeat a powerful cult bent on world domination. She hadn’t just been a tagalong either. Her companions all agreed that her power was pivotal to their success.

And she did it all two years younger than Rowan was at that moment. Ten years old, and he paled compared to his sister’s strength when she was younger. As time went on he overheard his parents talking… Well, his father complaining, about having a weak, male heir. That concept was incredibly embarrassing for someone in the tribe he had belonged to. While Garrev respected strength regardless of gender, and made that clear on a regular basis, he could not respect weakness. That is what finally got Rowan to try to push himself further. He requested to step up his training, double his exercise, and spar with his father, to show the man his dedication.

If one were to ask how that was working for him at the moment however…

“We’re done here, Boy,” Garrev said, looking his son up and down again. “You’ve got a black eye, a few broken ribs, and enough other wounds to make a REAL warrior contemplate his reason for fighting in the first place.” That sparked some heated words between his parents that Rowan had tuned out at that point.

Rowan winced, even as the soothing light of his mother’s healing magic turned his bruises from purple and black back to his normal skin color. If only there were magic to heal the reason for the wounds in the first place…

His father had already left the training area, dissatisfied as usual with his son’s progress, leaving him to the care of his mother, Amra. While no true physician, her faith and devotion lent her holy powers to both harm foes and heal allies. The latter of which seemed to be her son quite often in recent weeks.

Though the bruises healed quickly, it took longer for the effects of their pain to subside, and Rowan squirmed through the process. “I know I say it a lot sweetie, but don’t let your father get to you. Believe me, there have been plenty of days where he can’t even measure up to his own expectations, let alone anyone else being able to.” She moved her attention to another wound as she continued. “That insufferable man may have a lousy attitude about it, but trust me, his methods are sound. I DO think he takes it a bit too rough on you, but you’ve been so adamant lately to improve, that I just can’t tell you to stop. Don’t worry, though, I’ll always be here to help you back up every time your barbarian of a father gets too rough! Just stick with it, and I know you’ll shine brighter than you ever thought possible!” She smiled down at her son with a mother’s love. Usually, Rowan found solace in it, but his father’s words began to make it feel tainted somehow. She truly did support him, even at his young age, but what if that support was actually bad for him, as his father said?

After a bit more contemplative squirming, Rowan pulled away from his mother. “That’s enough, Mother, I feel fine now,” he said with a wince. She hadn’t healed all of his wounds, and there were still a few tender spots, but Rowan could not ignore his father’s words anymore. He had to try something else if he was ever going to become something more than he already was.

Amra furrowed her brow, clearly seeing that her son’s words were bravado, and not truth. Her mouth opened to begin to call him out, and Rowan squared his shoulders in response. It was time to take a stand, and push beyond being coddled in his training. No matter how hard he trained, his father would never respect him if he didn’t truly push himself to his limits. Rowan loved his mother, and truly appreciated her support, but to become an adult, he’d have to stop letting Mommy kiss all of his wounds better. That was part of what his father was getting at. There was no way Rowan could imagine his father putting up with someone acting to him like Amra did to Rowan. He’d never get any respect from his father until he started growing on his own, without a crutch. Without running to clutch at his mother’s skirts.

She must have seen something switch on in her son’s face, because Amra’s mouth closed again without a comment. She stood there for a moment, hands on hips, staring at her son, appraising him. Rowan tried to stand tall and defiant, but began to get a bit uneasy at the silence after a bit. Amra finally smiled, and knelt down in front of him, looking him in the eye. “You do whatever you need to do for you, Rowan. Just know two things.” She put her hand on his shoulder, and pulled her face closer. “First, I’ll support you in whatever way you need. If you think your father’s right, and that you’re ready to stand on your own, then go for it.” Her tone was supportive, but also a bit flat. Rowan was glad, if surprised, but he was somehow worried about the second thing.

Amra’s hand gripped his shoulder harder, causing the child to wince at the healing bruise there being squeezed. “Second, if you get it into your head to be like your father and bite off more than you can handle, and get yourself badly hurt, I will find out. I will make sure you are taken care of, healed, and safe. Then I will make his sparring matches with you look like a warm up, and you’ll be lucky to be allowed to leave the grounds until you’re thirty, okay?” Her smile had stayed in place through all of it, and she even said it in a cheery tone, but Rowan knew the threat for what it was, and he could only stammer out a “yes, Mother,” in response.

One last squeeze, and Amra stood up, and turned to leave.”Oh, and Rowan,” she said over her shoulder. “Doing things on your own is fine, but don’t think that that means that you can’t ever ask for help or rely on someone else for help, okay? We both know that your father is one-of-a-kind when it comes to his pride. Find your own path, don’t just follow his, okay?” Being his mother, Rowan supposed it wasn’t too surprising that she didn’t wait for a response. After all, she probably knew that he didn’t have words to respond with, both after her threat, and then her follow-up.

In the end, Rowan was left to his own devices to decide how he would proceed, and belatedly he realized that was the other reason she left as she did. She was already letting him choose his path. He merely said “thanks, Mother,” to the empty room, and began to think about what to do next.

. . .

The first thing to do was to get some confidence and experience on his own. After that, everything should start falling into place. Once he got the momentum going, he would surely keep growing in leaps and bounds. The biggest problem facing Rowan now was figuring out where to start. There was one rather obvious option, that being a solo training trip kind of like his sister took when she was younger, but that course held some rather scary consequences.

When his sister Amelia was a child, she had found a strange map to an old dwarven mine that was seemingly abandoned. She had the thought that such a discovery and the subsequent claiming of it would be a great boon for the family smithy business. To give the condensed version, she snuck away from home with some forged papers to get assistance on her quest to find the place. While successful in her goal, and the larger accomplishment of thwarting the world-reaching threat of the Elemental Cults, she wasn’t treated ENTIRELY as a hero on her return home… It would be sufficient to say that their parents did not take it lightly that their eight-year-old daughter left home on a dangerous quest. Sure, she did get celebrated as a hero eventually, but the grounding and other punishments came first. Mostly from their mother, though. Father seemed to approve of her independence and sheer moxie to pull off what she did.

The downside of being her younger brother, however, was that Rowan was kept on a bit of a leash as a result, and coddled even more by his mother after that.

Objectively, he wasn’t even going to try to do anything near as audacious as his sister. However, leaving home for a few days to really get a chance to be himself, and taking away the option to lean on anyone else for a bit would be the perfect first step to growing up. The plan was to basically go off camping on his own for a few days and maybe find some adventure, or at least some new ways to train on his own for a while. The only problem would be getting permission to leave by himself…

Later that day saw a fortunate turn of events for the young boy. His older cousin, Cynder Hasa had stopped by for a visit to the Dundragon house before setting off on a short trip to a neighboring town on business for his father. Though more than twenty years Rowan’s senior, Cynder had what some adults referred to as “an excessively youthful demeanor.” Amelia explained to Rowan that that was a nice way to say that Cynder was generally fairly childish, and had yet to start acting like an adult.

Rowan couldn’t really say whether Cynder acted like an adult or not, but he usually did try and make time to hang out with Rowan when he wasn’t too busy running errands or working on other things. Cynder was Rowan’s cousin, but in reality he felt more like that fun uncle you could always count on to have fun and maybe even get into mischief with. And with that last point in mind it was that Rowan was able to get permission to accompany Cynder on his trip.

In all, Cynder’s trip would last about a week, and he had no problem in helping with Rowan’s slight deception. Rowan was going to leave the city with Cynder, but then split off to camp on his own for a few days while Cynder went about his business. On his way back, the two would rendezvous and return home. It was a perfect plan that couldn’t possibly go wrong!

. . .

“So far, so good,” Rowan said to himself, wiping the sweat from his brow. He had just finished setting up his tent and making a small fire pit, thus completing his little campsite home for the next few days. The trip out of the city went smoothly, and there was only the slight hitch where his mother had cautioned Cynder to keep a close eye on Rowan since he’d been acting a little “strange” for a while. Cynder was able to keep a straight face easily, as that was far from the first time he’d tried to deceive an adult about his intentions. In fact, he was kinda scarily good at it…

A few hours' ride away from the city, the open fields gave way to light forest along the main road. Cynder had been caught up on Rowan’s story, and interjected some of his own experiences with an uptight father. He did concede that Rowan probably had it worse, since Uncle Magnus could at least be reasoned with on occasion, or at least would appreciate a good argument. Garrev on the other hand… You might as well try to change the opinion of a waterfall away from flowing down.

Cynder had run out on his own a lot as a child, and had earned plenty of bumps and bruises for his efforts, but in the meantime had learned how to stand up for himself and avoid such missteps in the future. So, he wholeheartedly supported his younger cousin’s reasoning to try it out for himself. Even Cynder had noticed the shorter leash Amra had on him since his sister’s adventure.

When they parted, Cynder double checked that Rowan had enough food and other supplies, and wished him luck. He did leave a joking: “Try to not die while I’m covering for you, please. I’ve been trying to fix my reputation lately, and that would seriously tank it!”

Rowan had found a secluded spot a ways back from the road to ensure his privacy, set up his camp, then sat back to take a bit of a break and contemplate things for a bit. There he was, on his own. He looked from side to side. Trees. Lots of trees. Now that he was alone, he started to wonder if there was actually any purpose to his plan.

He shook his head and slapped his cheeks to snap out of his doubt. He had to be more assertive if he was ever going to rise anywhere even close to his father’s expectations. There was no room for second-guessing himself at that point. The boy got to his feet and began to stretch, preparing for a jog, and then maybe some pushups and shadow boxing. He was going to make the most of this trip!

. . .

The first few days of Rowan’s personal training camp went smoothly enough. In addition to his regular exercises, he tried some new things, like climbing trees, jumping around from branch to branch. Pull-ups and inverted sit-ups from the branches. He even found a decent sized log and fashioned himself a punching bag of sorts. He did hurt himself on several occasions, and his father’s words about cherishing wounds weighed heavily on him, considering he had learned some healing magic from his mother. In the end, he determined that he’d only try to heal any wounds that would potentially slow his training. Or end up being truly dangerous, like a broken bone or anything that could get infected.

As Rowan pushed through the minor pains for a few days, he thought he might be getting to appreciate what his father meant. Sure, on his mother’s side, training at peak physical conditioning meant more effort for the end result. But pushing through the pain actually served to give Rowan a bit more of a sense of purpose. It’s as if he realized that his choices mattered a bit more. He started to realize when to push and when to hold back a bit more clearly. He saw the penalty for each mistake, and lived with it as a reminder of the consequences of his choices and his shortcomings. At least, as much as a child his age could. Not all of these concepts fully made sense enough for the boy to put into words at the time, but the lessons did begin to take hold, nonetheless.

As far as sustenance, Rowan had been camping with his family before, so knew the basics that his mother had taught him on how to fish and set snares for small game. His time alone did teach him at least one unexpected lesson, though. He was not good at cooking food, at all. He almost made himself sick on the first night, not cooking something for long enough, and cried through eating an overdone charred mess on the next day. He started to get the hang of it after a bit, and on the fourth day, he was sure he knew how long to cook whatever was in his snare that day. He hoped it was a rabbit. He had enough practice on rabbits that he was sure it would end up being his best meal yet.

Coming up quietly to the first of his snares, Rowan was disappointed to not hear any movement from the snare. What he found was just odd. The snare was broken. The tie-off point of the rope was still there, but it seemed as if the loop part had been cut free. Or maybe chewed? His other snare had worked before that day, did he just trap a smarter creature this time? Well, either way, he was smart enough to set out more than one trap. Undeterred, the boy proceeded to the next one.

In all, he had set out four traps. In the end, he found four cut lines and no trapped food. Was someone else out in the woods with him? Were they stealing his food? Maybe some nature-lover was setting the animals free and breaking his snares in the process? For the first time on the trip, Rowan was starting to get a bit discouraged. Sure cuts, scrapes, and bruises weren’t fun to get by any means, but an empty stomach was just a downright depressing thought. At least he could still fish, even if that ended up taking more time away from training.

After his morning routine, Rowan returned to his camp site with the few fish he had caught, and started setting the fire up to cook them. He wasn’t a fan of fish overall, and lamented not having any heartier game, but at the end of the day, food was food, and just about anything was better than going hungry!

About halfway through the cooking of the fish, which Rowan was being very attentive to, a rustle in the underbrush caught the child’s attention. He was startled and called out “who’s there?”

He scanned the area but didn’t see anything at first. Another rustle off to the side made him spin, and he saw a strange sight. It was the largest rabbit Rowan had ever seen! This wasn’t a creature that he could easily pick up in his hands; it was almost as big as Rowan himself! It was sitting up on its haunches, looking right at Rowan, its large nose twitching. Had it smelled the fish? Weren’t rabbits plant eaters?

Rowan was very confused by both the size and demeanor of the giant rabbit in front of him. It took a step forward, and Rowan took a matching step backwards, not sure what to do. Looking more closely at the creature, Rowan first noticed what looked like a leather band wrapped around the rabbit’s torso, draped from one shoulder down to its midsection. It almost looked like a baldric. Taking in the rest of the odd creature, Rowan saw something else that took a minute to sink in. Around one of its legs were two separate knotted lengths of thin rope. They looked kind of like….

Just then Rowan realized that this enormous creature had been very briefly caught in at least two of his snares, their broken loops around the giant rabbit’s leg being the proof. Moving his gaze back up to the beast’s eyes, Rowan followed its gaze to the ground near Rowan’s feet. While watching the fish cook, Rowan had been repairing his snares, and the small pile of rope had caught the rabbit’s attention. Both of them lifted their gazes back to meet each other and Rowan saw its eyes narrow.

What followed was a flurry of motion. The giant rabbit crouched down and charged forward in a loping, hopping charge. Rowan cried out in shock and backpedaled away from the creature. In his own haste the back of his heel caught on the rock he had been sitting on, and he fell backwards, landing on his rump. Rowan wasn’t the only one having trouble in the small camp though. The rabbit also got its large foot caught in one of the tent lines, and tumbled to the ground.

As it struggled to get free Rowan was frozen in fascination, staring at the beast. He swore that the thing’s eyes were glowing red, and steam was gushing from its nose. After some random flailing the creature shocked Rowan yet again by reaching behind its back and drawing a large battle axe from the leather band it was wearing, and began to promptly hack at Rowan’s tent and the lines that it was caught up in.

Rowan was so surprised by the image in front of him that he could hardly process it. He merely sat there mute, mesmerized by the last ten seconds. His eyes were wide, his mouth hung open, and only incredulous noises escaped his throat in a bare whisper.

Finally, the creature managed to cut itself free, and gathered itself upright to stand on its haunches once more. Only this time, it held its axe tightly in both hands, looked at Rowan dead on, and let out a high-pitched, shrill shriek of rage. It then raised its axe high while jumping forward a bit, and hurled the weapon directly at Rowan. The boy’s eyes widened and he regained enough composure to scramble back on the ground as the axe struck the rock he had tripped over. The weapon cleaved straight through the large stone and stuck in the ground, the rock splitting open and its halves falling to either side.

The realization of the sheer strength needed to do that sobered Rowan enough to scramble to his feet and try to get away from his assailant, escaping into the woods. Rowan ran, terrified from the sudden encounter, and at seeing this strange, huge rabbit thing doing something that he would more associate with his father’s capabilities.

The cracking of twigs and leaves behind Rowan caused him to look behind, seeing the beast in pursuit. It was barreling through the underbrush, intent on chasing the boy down. Rowan whimpered a bit and decided to fall back on his exercises these past few days. He adjusted his direction, and threw himself towards a tree with lower hanging branches, using his momentum to run up the trunk a few paces, and then leaping to a branch. He swung from underneath to the top of the branch, and then to one, and then another, putting him as far out of reach of the murderous rabbit as possible.

He thought he was making good progress when the wicked axe blade thunked into the branch his feet had left less than a second prior, and he turned back to see the rabbit hopping from branch to branch itself, using its powerful legs to keep up with the boy’s fluid movements.

Rowan’s heart was racing as it seemed everything he tried to shake his pursuer seemed to be in vain. For the moment, he was able to maintain his lead at least, but this thing seemed quite adept at throwing his weapon, and then picking it up on its way past. Rowan knew that eventually there was going to be a throw he was unable to dodge, and that would be the end of him. “I’m sorry for eating your friends!” he yelled back to the creature desperately, but either it didn’t understand, or it didn’t care. Either way, it continued the chase with fervor.

Rowan began to realize that he had to fight back at some point. He’d never been in an actual fight before, only sparring matches with family and other students at times. He had gotten moderately used to the idea that he would get hurt in such a situation, but the bruises his father inflicted, and even the prospect of a broken bone paled in comparison to what that rabbit’s axe could do to him. Rowan’s body was moving on instinct at the moment, but he knew that would have to change. He had to find a place to actually fight this thing if he was going to survive.

The realization of his plight came about just in time, as the trees started thinning out ahead. The distance between each branch was growing, and Rowan was very disappointed that he hadn’t been able to grasp his father’s flying technique. His jumps and swings became less sure with the increased distance, and eventually, inevitably, Rowan came up short on one of his jumps. His momentum was good, and he’d had a good run considering he’d just taught himself the skill over the last few days, but he’d reached the end.

His fingers missing the branch by no more than an inch, the boy’s momentum sent him into a tumble, and while he hit the ground hard, he still managed to turn his fall into a roll to conserve his pace at least somewhat.

Not seemingly deterred by anything at this point, his pursuer tried to take advantage of Rowan’s fall, and this time the boy had to duck to avoid the flying blade. Another glance backwards and he noticed a few short, black hairs floating down near the axe’s impact. He reached up to his head, and stumbled a bit as he saw a little bit of red stain his hand.

Rowan redoubled his pace, trying to get out in the open as quickly as he could. The trees thinned out more, and a breeze began to pick up. Finally, a small, open field awaited him, and Rowan rushed to it. He slowed his run and inspected the area for a brief moment to prepare for the fight. Both of his parents agreed that taking stock of the battlefield was imperative to putting up a good fight. Since there didn’t seem to be much they ever agreed on, that lesson stuck with Rowan pretty easily.

Thin trees lined the edge of the forest Rowan called home the past few days. A long stretch of clear field, about thirty feet or so wide, gave him plenty of space to move around in, and hopefully plenty of room to dodge thrown axes. On the side opposite the tree-line however, the green ground gave way to a cliff overlooking the great sea that Marenkier bordered. He didn’t have time to get close to the edge to see how far down the cliff went, but if it was less than a hundred feet, he would be surprised. Rowan gulped. That would be a very bad place for a misstep.

Fortunately, Rowan was able to take all that in rather quickly, so he had time to dodge yet one more throw of the beast’s weapon. This time, it came at him horizontally, and he was able to jump over it with legs split as it sailed past where he was standing. What luck! Rowan turned to watch it fly out and over the ledge behind him. His joy at seeing his stalker’s weapon get taken out of the fight was short-lived however. The blade tilted a bit in flight, and began to curve to the side, changing its trajectory. Rowan’s elated smile began to change as well, mimicking the curve of the blade’s flight, until both were completely reversed. The blade began flying back towards the field Rowan was standing in, and his smile turned into an open-mouthed expression of incredulity. “Oh, come on!” he exclaimed. “How is that fair?!”

Following the curving blade’s journey, it was clear it was not going to hit Rowan on the way back, but that didn’t mean the boy was safe. As it came about even with him in regards to the cliff edge, the giant rabbit appeared in the edge of Rowan’s vision, charging in from the side. So stunned by the axe’s flight, Rowan was unable to dodge this time as the beast grabbed the axe out of the air and continued its rush toward the boy, leaping at him, feet first.

The creature’s huge hind feet landed hard on Rowan’s chest in a powerful drop kick and he was knocked away, tumbling several dozen feet across the field from the strength of the blow. The boy was able to get his feet under him eventually and dug into the ground to slow his momentum. He clutched his hand to his chest as he regained his stance, and he didn’t even want to think of the bruise the impact must have created.

The giant rabbit snorted, actual steam puffing out from its snout. Its grip on the axe was flexing and loosening as the creature slowly stalked forward, trying to get back within striking distance. The slow movement of its huge feet, causing its stride to be more of a waddle that would be comical in most circumstances. But not this one. Rowan tried to plead with it and apologize again, but he wasn’t even sure if the beast understood his words or not. And if it did understand, it did not give any indication that it cared.

Rowan stood straighter and did the only thing he could do; he pulled out the small hunting knife he’d brought with him. The tiny blade was designed for cutting ropes and twigs, and the only flesh it was meant to pierce was that of animals already dead and ready for dressing. It was a far cry from a combat blade, but Rowan had no choice but to use it as such.

When the creature reached what it must have felt was the right distance, it let out a large snort, dug its feet, and lunged toward the boy. Rowan had made his decision, and it was time to act on it. With his own battle cry welling up from his throat, he lunged forward as well. Hopefully, he could at least take the beast by surprise.

Rowan’s mother had taught him the basics of most of the common weapons out there, and while there were always exceptions, axes tended to be pretty straight-forward regards to tactics. They were swung with great strength in sweeping arcs, using their weight and momentum to cause great damage. That usually meant that if one were able to dodge the usually easy-to-read swings, there would be an opening to exploit.

The Rabbit held its weapon high over its right shoulder, and Rowan suspected a diagonal slice down to its left side. Praying his timing was good, the boy dodged to his own left as the two closed to within striking distance. The axe swung fast in the predicted arc, and Rowan was thrilled to see the creature’s exposed flank. He jabbed out with his small knife, and scored a cut along its thigh. The knife was unable to go in very deep between the angle and the creature’s thick flesh, but Rowan had managed a successful attack, regardless!

Unfortunately, while the opening he had been hoping for did indeed present itself, the beast was quick on its own reactions. After its swing, the rabbit reversed its momentum to swing again at Rowan, who barely had enough time to scoot back out of range of the deadly blade. Things looked pretty bad. It would take an awful lot of cuts from his tiny knife to even slow the creature down, but one good hit on Rowan and that would be the end.

The creature leaped at Rowan, following his retreat, and the boy was forced to focus on just dodging the large blade for the moment. It really felt like he was trapped in a fight with no chance at victory, and a very large chance for his death. Was this like the stories his father told him about his own past? The struggles he went through to avenge the destruction of his people, and his fight with the evil emperor and his generals? Each fight was one where his opponent had him beat in every physical aspect, but he refused to give up. He fought on, and either found a way to exploit their weaknesses, found a new reserve of power or resolve, or had enough allies to see it through?

Rowan couldn’t count on the ally angle here, but there were other things going for him at least. For one, he was the son of a warrior prince who was able to win in the face of utter defeat, as well as a warrior woman who never flinched from any challenge on the field of battle. It was in his blood to fight things above his current skill level. It was part of his lineage to adapt in order to survive. As for the enemy’s weakness, that was also beginning to show itself.

The creature raged on in its assault, and Rowan began to see a bit of a pattern begin to emerge. After a few direct swings, it would leap at him with a downward slash. When the distance was right, Rowan guessed the timing on its jump, and was rewarded with another opening when he suddenly leapt towards the creature instead of away from it. This time, his little blade stuck into the rabbit’s chest an inch or so, and Rowan followed that strike up with a kick to the fresh wound. He planted his other foot on the cut as well, and pushed off to flip backwards, out of the reach of the beast’s inevitable counter attack.

The wooshing of an axe behind him as he flipped away indicated his successful guess. Rowan landed on his feet and continued to keep his distance from his foe, a confident grin on his face. The battle was turning, and Rowan was getting more sure of himself as the fight went on.

The next few minutes saw a frantic affair. The giant rabbit refused to slow down, even after Rowan managed to land several cuts, stabs, and kicks on the creature. It just kept coming strong, its own rage seeming to make it immune to any pain it must have felt. The beast also seemed to have a limitless reserve of stamina. Rowan took two shallow slices from the axe when he stumbled on some of his dodges, one along his left arm, and the other right across his chest where he had been kicked previously.

The open field seemed to actually be more of a detriment after a while, and Rowan began to think some cover might be helpful, and so suddenly broke into a run back for the tree line. He caught a hard kick to his hip for his hasty retreat, but managed to roll with the impact to conserve his momentum. Almost too late, he remembered the skill with which the giant rabbit could throw his weapon, and dropped into a slide along the ground. The massive blade whirled over his head, and once again he thought he saw some strands of his hair float down after the narrow miss.

The blade continued on and lodged itself into the trunk of a tree. “Yes!” Rowan exclaimed. That was just what he was hoping for. Now, for a moment at least, the beast was unarmed. Sure, there were plenty of times that occurred on the initial chase, but Rowan had not been ready to fight back at that point. Now, on the other hand, he skidded to a stop with the weapon only a few feet behind him, and took up a defensive stance, taunting the beast to come at him.

Despite Rowan’s confidence and just plain thinking how cool he must have looked right then, the beast’s momentum did not slow in the slightest. In fact, it leaped straight for the boy, one giant foot forward in a flying leaping kick. In a mix of shock and disappointment, Rowan dodged the attack, but had sense enough to still take advantage of the situation enough to follow up and attack.

The rabbit had just reached its axe and was about to pull it free when Rowan jumped on its shoulders and reached to firmly grasp its large ears, one in each hand, and tugged backwards, hard. The beast screamed its shrill cry, though in pain or anger, Rowan had no clue. Its paws hadn’t quite gotten around the axe, and the pull on its ears had managed to turn the beast away from the weapon’s resting place.

The rabbit did not like what Rowan was doing to it, not at all. It tried to reach behind itself to grab the boy, but could not reach its smaller arms far enough back to get any kind of grip. The creature began to stagger in different directions, trying to dislodge his passenger. Rowan tried to hold on with all of his strength, and found himself tested to the limit. The creature started to hop up and down, and it was all Rowan could do to hold on, and his head started to swim at the jostling.

The strange rodeo act had started to cover more ground, and soon the duo was back out in the open field once more. With the increased speed and motion, Rowan was finding it hard to tell which way was up, and could only struggle to keep his grip as tight as possible. The creature’s ears must have been very sensitive. The harder Rowan squeezed, the more the beast raged. Eventually, Rowan had to close his eyes just to avoid passing out from the rigorous bouncing and lurching.

Rowan had no clue how much time had passed. It may have only been a few seconds but it felt like an eternity. His entire world had shrunk down to holding firm and trying not to either throw up or let go.

Something would have to change soon. He couldn’t stand much more of that treatment, but he also knew that if he DID let go, he would be in no condition to fight. He also realized that both of his hands were gripping the rabbit’s ears. What had happened to his knife? Rowan slowly pried his eyes open and tried to focus on the rabbit as opposed to the whirling field. His hands felt mostly numb in the tight grip he’d been maintaining for who knew how long, but on looking down at them, he saw red in his blurred vision. He realized that he must still have his knife gripped in his right hand! He must have somehow stabbed the creature in the ear when he made his mad grab for its ears, and had managed to keep the blade stuck throughout the struggle.

The beast’s blood flowed down its head and, Rowan guessed, over its eyes. It was in a literal blind frenzy as it tried to do everything in its power to dislodge its rider and the knife. By this time, it stopped thrashing for the briefest moment, and Rowan was able to get a deep breath of air, which helped Rowan’s own head clear just a bit. However, the beast released another shrill cry and pawed at the earth, just like it did before every time it charged. Rowan squawked out a cry of his own as he reflexively renewed his grip on his reluctant mount.

Rowan’s vision was still a bit blurry from his own dizziness, and so he didn’t notice right away the direction the blinded beast had chosen. When he was able to make out his home city of Marenkier in a straight line ahead of him, he realized that the giant rabbit was blindly charging straight for the cliff overlooking the sea. Rowan’s squawk turned into a horrified scream, and he froze in terror, still gripping hard on the beast.

The ground rapidly disappeared as the two got closer and closer to the edge. Rowan’s body would not respond to him, he was terrified in the moment, and all he could do was watch as his death approached. There was no way he would survive that fall, even if it was into water. He had never even got close enough to see if it WOULD be water at the bottom. For all he knew, there could be a strip of sharp, hard rocks waiting at the foot of the cliff before the water even got close.

Rowan couldn’t even hear his own scream anymore over the sound of his heart pumping blood through his own body. Time seemed to slow down as the giant rabbit’s feet stumbled off the ledge and into empty air. The sea came closer into vision as the rabbit started to tumble, and he saw that there was actually a little beach at the bottom of the cliff.

It was a thin strip of sand, and he wasn’t sure if he’d hit dry ground or water. It might depend on where the waves were in the timing of their lapping up against the shore. The beach looked secluded, and Rowan imagined there would likely be several small caves in the cliff face that would be fun to explore if he ever came back out here on a family holiday. His mother would accompany him and his sister in searching, and Amelia would just talk about the type of stone in the cave, and how the formations were made. Rowan would be more interested in seeing any wildlife or, even better, treasure may be hidden away in the dark. His father, of course, would either be laying back on a towel on the sand, or more likely trying to get some training in. Maybe even making some new caves in the cliff side with his energy blasts…

It was amazing what Rowan had the time to think about while plunging to his death. He had barely begun to start to fall, and he had already planned out an entire family vacation… A vacation he would never be able to have.

“…..… Go…”

Something cut through the mixed screams of Rowan and his raging mount, but he couldn’t quite make it out.

“Let go!!!”

This time, the words cut through clearly, as they were punctuated by the sound of an explosion behind him. Time seemed to speed back up to normal as Rowan obeyed the order, turning around in the process. There was a heat haze in the air, framing his cousin’s form lunging for Rowan, hand outstretched to the boy. Rowan reached his back in response and Cynder grabbed the boy’s numbed hand, holding it tightly.

The two were suspended in the air for a moment as Rowan was trying to process what was happening. He felt a tug as his momentum was stopped by his cousin’s grip, and the two of them swung downward over the edge of the cliff, and landed hard against the cliff face. Confused, Rowan looked up past his cousin. Cynder was hanging from the handle of the giant rabbit’s axe, which he must have thrust into the edge of the cliff even as he was reaching for Rowan.

They hung there for a moment, the wind knocked out of both of them from the impact. Rowan turned back to watch as his opponent continued to tumble down the long drop to the bottom of the cliff. As it turned out, the creature had enough momentum to carry it to the water, where it landed with a huge splash. Rowan also noticed the glint of metal hitting the water nearby as well, most likely his knife.

Cynder’s voice eventually cut through Rowan’s musing yet again. “So, are we just gonna ‘hang’ around here all day, or can we get back to even ground again soon?” Rowan chose to ignore the pun as the two began to get themselves back to safety.

“Hey,” Cynder said to Rowan’s silence. “I save your life, the least you could do is laugh at my bad jokes!”

. . .

As it turned out, Cynder had managed to complete his task a little early, and decided to come out to see how his cousin was doing with his training. On reaching the wrecked campsite, it wasn’t hard for Cynder to track the route the two combatants had taken. There were plenty of broken branches, slashed trunks, and whatnot to follow. Eventually he heard the fight going on and picked up his pace. He’d cleared the tree line and saw the axe embedded in the tree before seeing the very comical seeming rodeo occurring in front of him.

At first, Cynder smiled at how funny it looked from the outside, but then he started to realize the depth of the situation. Even from that distance, Cynder noticed Rowan’s cut clothes, and the beast’s blood was literally gushing from its wound. Cynder grabbed the axe free from the tree and ran to help out his little cousin. That was when the beast started its final charge to the cliff’s edge.

Cynder knew he would not have made it in time by running, so he used a bit of his signature fire magic to help propel him forward faster. He yelled to his cousin to let go of the giant rabbit more than once, and finally the boy listened, though not before clearing the cliff edge. Cynder reached for the boy, made contact, dug the axe in, and made the most daring rescue he’d ever managed.

“Of course, when I retell it to anyone else, your part will be played by a beautiful, grateful young princess of some kind.” Having finished telling Rowan his side of what he’d seen, Cynder took the story in a typically “Cynder” direction, and Rowan just rolled his eyes.

Cynder asked Rowan how a little training camp got built up to that “little tussle” as he put it, and Rowan told him of his week. In the process, Rowan was using his limited healing magic to recover from some of his wounds. His magic ran out before his pain did, sadly…

“Well, I’ve got good news and bad news for you, cousin,” Cynder said when the boy’s tale was done. Rowan looked up at his cousin with another eyebrow raised. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Cynder replied to the look. “You always like bad news first, and you hate it when I say that!” It was an old game that Cynder thought never got old. But it did.

“So yeah,” he continued, unperturbed. “That thing was kicking your ass by the looks of it, and if I hadn’t shown up, you would be very dead right now. If you hadn’t gotten in that lucky shot on its ear, it would have sliced you up good!” Cynder gave Rowan a moment for that to sink in. The boy just looked down at his feet. Being reminded that it was simply luck that he was even alive at that moment stung, especially given the reason for his trip in the first place.

“Buck up, kid, we still got the good news, after all.” Rowan scoffed dismissively, not knowing how anything good could have come from the encounter. Cynder continued, “So, it seems like there’d been a bit of a rash of disappearances lately. Some forest monster-killing people or something.” Cynder began walking around a bit as he talked, flourishing his hands a little for emphasis here and there. “The next town over had sent a few hunters, and two separate squads of guards into the woods to quell the beast. Only one of the guards ever returned. He was a bloody mess, and even missing an arm. He told a strange tale of a ‘giant, furry beast wielding a wicked axe that it used to chop everyone to bits.’”

Cynder made sure Rowan was looking at him for the rest of the story before continuing. “It’s a shame that the guard had to explain that the ravenous, deadly beast was a giant rabbit! People knew that a monster was still out there, but the guard got mocked for losing a fight to “Little Bunny Cut-You,” as they started calling it, not believing the guard’s retelling.

Rowan looked up at his cousin, mouth agape, not sure what to make of the story, or the implications. Seeing the child’s confusion, Cynder crouched down in front of him, and spelled it out. “Kid, you just single-handedly, no offense to that poor guard, took out the biggest threat to that town for a long time now. You stopped it when it killed dozens!” Cynder stood up, and flourished a bit more to try to get Rowan excited. “You fought, survived against, and killed something that multiple trained fighters lost to! Sure, we both know there was some luck involved, but they don’t need to know that. You even have proof!” Cynder pointed to the rabbit’s axe, laying nearby, for emphasis.

It took Rowan a little while to process it all, but in the end he came to a conclusion: He set out to train on his own, to surpass his limits. He got into a fight against a creature that killed many older, more skilled fighters, and survived long enough to deal a fatal blow to the creature. Yes, he froze up at the end of the fight, and could have let go at the last second, rolling to safety, letting only the beast go over the edge… But he survived up to that point. The beast hadn’t been pulling punches, that much was clear. Rowan did actually have some skill, he decided. He’d resolve to keep his head in the future, but until then, this was a win. Maybe the story wouldn’t sound so epic, having bested “Little Bunny Cut-You” and all, but the truth of the story is still the same.

Rowan had taken his first step to becoming a great warrior and had survived his first real life-or-death fight. This day would serve to make him stronger, and help him grow into both a warrior, and a man.

. . .

One Week Later

The noble Bun-Bun tribe had finally discovered the fate of their greatest champion, Ku’twu, his body had been discovered washed ashore, cut apart and drowned. The ceremony sanctifying his death was one that would be remembered long into Bun-Bun history, as it marked the passing of their bravest and strongest warrior.

Clutched in his paw, the Bun-Bun did not find their champion’s ancestral axe, blessed by the ancient Bun-Bun spirits. Instead they found a small knife with a strange sigil on it. That sigil would not be forgotten, for it marked the killer of their champion.

The Bun-Bun would have revenge…