The Legends of Ithan Book 1: Ghosts & Fire

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Sandros halted the black mount he had stolen from the green men. He was at a crossroads and must decide where to go from here. Dawn was near at hand and he had to make a decision. He could go to Seliz, which he knew was the city where the king was. He could report of the destruction of Galdon and the impending doom of Seliz. That would be the noble and honorable thing to do. Unfortunately, all Sandros could think on was the fact that the king would probably make him a slave again and he determined, in his heart, that he would never wear a yoke again. Hadn’t he paid enough for the sins of his family?

            Sandros found himself drawn to those memories he had long suppressed. He had no idea what had become of his mother but he assumed she had died in the cells where they were put after the raid. His uncle had been wrong to steal from the guard of the Lord of Galdon, but to make matters worse, his uncle had then killed the guard and insisted that his father help him hide the body. It had not taken the Galdon guards long to find it. When they did, it did not take them long to suspect, not just his uncle, but his father as well and his entire family. He had only been eight years of age when all the Lord’s guards had raided the lower slums of the outskirts of Asa, a village a few hundred miles outside of Galdon. They called him and his family worthless swine and petty thieves. They had rounded his whole family up but his father and uncle were not there. They had disappeared in the night. Cowards! Sandros felt the heavy bitterness he had been carrying for years wash over him in a fury. And what had he done? He had coward like a child. He should have fought back. He should have saved his mother. He was a slave because of the sins of his father and his uncle. He ground his teeth more furiously as he remembered.

            His family had been divided and put into prison cells in a dungeon in the bottom of the Galdon Arena. They had awaited trial for days, but no trial came. He heard his mother scream once from a cell further down the hall, in the night, and he called to her, but she either could not hear him or could not answer. Then one morning, after being half-starved, he was put to work in the quarry pits, moving and busting rocks, and he had never seen any of his family since.

            If he went to Seliz would the king greet him as a lone survivor of Galdon or as a runaway slave? He could not be sure. Sandros’ eyes went instead to the sign pointing in the direction of the port city of Rega. He couldn’t read the writing on the signs but little pictures of boats helped him
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nderstand what he needed to know. He had heard other slaves speak of the robust port and of boats that sailed on the Great Sea. They had even talked of islands in the ocean where no man had ever been. Maybe he could somehow stowaway on a boat, leave Ithan, and keep his freedom. Fate had granted him this freedom, why should he endanger it with ideals of honor? It was a miracle he was still alive. If one of the demon lizards had not went wild and started eating green men, the three surrounding him would not have been distracted. He then had leapt onto the back of one of the horses and removed the rider’s head from his shoulders. He then finished the other two in sword combat. He looked down at the gash, that had turned the make-shirt bandage on his upper thigh, red. He would need to seek healing soon or he would lose all his blood. He had been chased by the yellow demon lizard till the hellish thing suddenly seemed to heed another call and turned back to Galdon as Sandros himself rode ever farther from the place of his enslavement. He would repay that lizard two-fold, he swore it! It had been hell trying to just get out of Galdon. Between the barricade, that was still intact when Sandros tried to leave, to the sand creatures that roamed the desert at night, it was a wonder a gash in his leg was all he had. The stolen horse wheezed and froth covered its flanks. He knew the horse would give out soon and it would be a few more hours before they reached the port. He patted the horses neck and felt dizzy himself. He knew he had to make a decision.

            Dawn was turning the world bright. Sandros reasoned that the king would surely find out about Galdon and the strange green men some way, and he knew Seliz was said to be heavily fortified. He had no doubt they could take care of themselves. Besides what good could one lone slave do? And who would even believe a slave? They would just think he had killed his masters and fled. Besides, how would it sound if he said ‘I heard the men say they were going to attack Seliz’? Seliz hadn’t been attacked in over eight hundred years. Sandros decided then he was not going to shun the gift Fate had given him. He was going to keep his freedom. To Rega then! He spurned his mount onward.

            As the black froth licked horse began to gallop in the direction of the ocean, a soft Wind tussled Sandros’ hair but he ignored the coolness the Wind brought to his skin. He had a strange feeling that he was making a mistake but he pushed it aside. He then smelt a sweetness to the Wind and remembered a few days ago when a gentle Wind had carried that same sent. Something strange was going on, and Sandros felt like his new found freedom had already been taken from his hands. He had never put much stoke in the Maker but now he wondered if something far greater than himself was truly out there turning the wheels of Fate. Sandros shook his head and instead began to focus on how he was going to get a boat to leave Ithan forever. He didn’t even realize the moment his vision went black and he slumped off the horse.