The Warden

Chapter 1

But Waning notwithstanding, the day appeared magicked just for him.

Insides trembling, Masis let out a great whoop, tearing from the room. Bursting through his door, he nearly collided with a maid, her arms full of bed linens. Nearly dropping the lot, a squeak and squawk jumbling from her mouth, the bewildered maid jumped back, pressing herself against the wall.

Sorry, Mildred, said Masis, breath heaving. His smile didnt slip, but his pace had hiccupped.

What were you thinking bursting out of there like a nightling from the shadows, she retorted, catching her language too late as her hand moved from chest to her mouth for what she had said.

Masis grin grew with a wicked gleam. Dont worry, Mildred. I wont tell on you. He added with a cheeky wink.

Where on earth are you going to in such a rush? she asked, shaking her head, but reluctantly sharing his smile.

The fields! Masis began to edge toward the stairs, his fluttering insides not allowing him to settle for long.

Oh, I might have known. Thats all youve been able to talk about for the past few weeks.

Im sorry for startling you, Mildred, but I have to be going

He bolted. Both hands shot out to the walls to keep him on his feet rather than tumbling down the long flight of stairs.

Mildreds voice chased after him. Well, good luck then. Make a few good wraps for us all, milord.

Masis didnt slow his pace. His feet, moving far faster than his mind, nearly stumbled a few times but he managed to catch himself before tumbling headlong down the stairs to the next level. When the stairs ended, he dashed forward, passing doors and a few openings for hallways that branched off. He didnt slow to examine the side tables that lined the curved wall, sprouting from the floor, each unique as their surfaces the trees rings. Twenty years had not worn away their novelty in Masis mind. Still there were days where, when he found the corridor empty, he would count how many years each table represented, then marvel over the vases that formed out of the tops of others. The soil within never needed watering and the flowers and other plants they held must have approached the dwelling itself for age.

He would often wonder who in his long and ancient line had conceived the Forest Towers—as they were called by all in Hyrbn and Asthurn beyond—before the Waning, before magic had begun to fade from Mankind, resolving its abilities to a few dwindling family lines and those choice few that manifested abilities randomly. Who amongst his many antecessors that had magicked these great trees had conceived of this or that particular table and had bent their will upon it? So many small details, on every door, patterned in every cornice, wrought upon the very floor, meant a wealth of beauty went unobserved. A lifetime would be needed to seek and find all the subtle artistry of the place. In his free time, away from tutors, family obligations, or obligatory labor amongst the various forest crews, Masis had wandered his home, the immensity of it transforming him from a denizen to a foreigner in strange climes. In his wanderings, he had found wonders. Rooms long forgotten, untouched for generations. Walls that yielded to his touch, shrinking in on themselves to reveal passageways stagnant from disuse. Nooks in which the very grains of the tree had been magicked into ancient and flowing script and design. Crannies designed for reading. Closets meant for concealment.

In fact, one such hide-away lay just around a few corners and doorways. Masis had forgotten his copy of The Lay of the Great Wolves Fall there, having read into the night. His pace slowed as his mind considered the path to retrieve it.

It wouldnt take me that long, he thought to himself. No! No distractions today!

His mind filled again with the thrill and anticipation that always accompanied the pounding of hooves and the whirling burr flung off by the bolo.