On the Wrong Side

Prologue

"Stay here. Do not come out no matter what. If they talk, do not reply. They are not to be trusted." Those were the last words she ever spoke to him before she left their home to fight. His mother. He would never see her again.

Just a few mere minutes later, he heard screams of the Egesa, what he assumed were the battle cries of humans and the horrible clicking of the Draak, terrifying hunchbacked, beady eyed demon and dwarf hybrids. They were more demon than anything else. He was five and hated the feeling of helplessness that trapped him with his mother's words, " Do not come out no matter what." He stayed there like a coward while the din of the battle raged around him. He hated his inability to do anything.

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He was sitting on his horse. Just a young pony but it was fitting for the boy riding it. His father had ordered him to stay behind and watch. It was supposed to be a "training exercise" but it was just him watching his father ride off into battle. He was only ten and they could not risk the only heir to the throne of the kingdom of Qyrelt in a training expedition. The battle was now over and he was supposed to be surveying the damage and analyzing his fathers strategy. He saw none.

He was looking at the houses of the Egesa. They were all burning. All of them. He looked closer. All but one. He had been taught since birth about the wickedness of the Egesa. However, in this moment, he disregarded all his father's teaching and instruction and went over. Was it a spell? What would be so precious that you needed a spell to protect it? He went inside. All the candles were lit. Odd. He stepped further in. Once he reached the kitchen, the floorboards creaked. This was the ground floor. All the floors should be solid. What could be creaking? He looked down and saw a small groove. Nothing too noticeable but it could be taken for a handle. He pulled on it. It opened up to reveal a sleeping figure. A child. The child had dark raven colored hair. It was wrapped in a black cloak meant for an adult. He had unnaturally large shoulder blades. An Egesa. The ears had not yet started to point and the young prince doubted that the gray pupils common in Egesa had begun to slit. 'What if I train him in Qyrelt? Will he turn on me? It's worth a shot. It would be beneficial to the defense of Qyrelt if we had one on our side,' thought Anchael, the young prince.

He scooped up the child and carried it back to his horse. He mounted and ride back to where he agreed to meet his father.  He knew his father would object to his want to keep the child but would not be able to put any logic against the boy's reasoning.

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The Egesa. That's what they were calling him now. The Egesa. How rude. They had taken him away from his home and wouldn't even call him by his name. He had one. It we the only thing he had other than his father's cloak. He would have talked except his mother's orders prevented it. He wanted to talk, and shout, and go home.

     "Hello," said a voice. Myerdden jumped at the sound and found its owner. A young boy about ten years of age. He had sharp, angled features, dark brown hair, and green eyes.

     "Aren't you going to speak?" asked the boy. "I'm Anchael. You're safe. You're in Qyrelt now." Myerdden shook his head. He would not speak.

     "Oh. Can't speak? Everyone is calling you the Egesa. Why though, I have no idea. They could ask for your name. I'll call you by your name if you want me to." Myerdden decided it was safe to "talk." He reached out for the mind link all living things had. Some were stronger than others. He found it and grabbed it.

     "I am called Myerdden." Anchael looked shocked at this connection.

     "How did you do that? Did anyone else hear?"