Excerpt: The Stones of Miraldan

A cry from the other end of the hall drew Caedryn’s attention. It was followed by a peal of laughter from a group of foreign guards. The men, leaning against one of the long tables were heavily drunk and one of the servants had fallen prey to their cruelty. As Caedryn watched the young man struggled to his feet, reaching for the tray he had been carrying only to be shoved to the ground again.

Caedryn pushed his chair back, standing up and striding around the table towards the scene. As he approached one of the guards booted the servant in the side. “Bastard, that’ll teach you to spill wine down me.”

“Please...” the servant began, only to be cut off by another boot to the chest. The voice was familiar but it took Caedryn a moment to place it: Garreth. It was one thing to treat one’s own servant in such a cruel and callous way, but Caedryn would not tolerate abuse of one of his men and especially not one who had taken care of him for years as Garreth had done.

“Get away from him. Now,” he snapped as he approached the men. They looked up as one, instantly recognising him and taking a step backwards. Garreth remained cowering on the floor, one hand cradling the side of his head where a bruise was already beginning to form.

“What’s going on here?” he questioned, looking from one man to another. “You will give me an explanation as to why you are abusing my man now or I swear I will not be lenient.”

The man who appeared to be the ring leader stood forward. “The little shit spilled wine down me; this is a brand new shirt.”

“So you thought you’d give him a beating?” Caedryn asked, keeping his tone amiable but seething inside. “Blood is just as hard to get out as fabric, don’t you know?”

The hall around them had grown hushed; everyone, mage and man alike, was watching them from the high table to the serving staff. Caedryn didn’t care though, they were nothing to him. All his attention was centred on the guards and the young man who cowered between them.

“Garreth, you can get up,” he said, breaking the silence. “Go and get yourself cleaned up and take the rest of the night off. You are not to blame here.”

“Thank you, my prince,” Garreth said, staggering to his feet. He turned, aiming to walk past his aggressors but before he had taken two steps the ring leader stepped forward, shoving Garreth forcibly backwards. The servant tumbled back, striking his head on the stone floor and crying out in pain.

Later, Caedryn would not be able to describe what happened next. All he knew was a gentle breeze beginning to float towards him, tugging at his hair and clothing. Then, a stronger blast and Garreth’s attackers were lying on the floor, several feet away and unconscious. Everyone else was unhurt and staring at him in a mixture of confusion, shock and horror.

He was shaking and unsteady on his feet, his body flooding with exhaustion as if he was ailing from some fever. He staggered backwards, glancing around the room as his vision swam. A whispering had started up around the room, the words a jumble except for one: mage. Mage. Mage.

Caedryn couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it. He wasn’t a mage, couldn’t be – neither of his parents were - had been. He’d never shown the powers before; he’d never thought himself capable of such pain. He wasn’t a mage. Still the words repeated through his mind and the more he studied the scene before him the more convinced he became that it had been caused by magic. But the room was full of mages, surely it was one of them and not him.

He glanced to his father and Trystan who were staring at him in disbelief and anger. Aldwyn, beside them looked shocked too but his eyes held something else, something Caedryn could only describe as... awe. But he hadn’t done anything. He wasn’t a mage.

He wasn’t...

His legs collapsed from beneath him and he was falling forward his body refusing to stop him. Arms caught him about the waist and he was pulled upright, against a chest. As darkness rushed up to claim him he heard a voice, close to his ear speaking to him but it was muffled, as if they were calling from a distance.

“It’s alright, My Prince, you’re going to be alright.”