Fragments Gallery
Finally Free
The young man stared out over rolling hills. It was spring, the snow had begun to melt and already green grass poked holes in the white blanket. The cool wind slicked back his damp hair; he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, slowly raising his arms out to the sides. He was free.
Behind him, still within sight amidst the green hills, stood the city which had been his prison for so many years. He didn't look back; he knew that he had already set eyes on those fell white walls for the last time. He would never return to this place; he hoped it burned to the ground. Even now the fires from the war machines of the sieging army raged behind the city walls. He had lived his entire life behind those white walls, bound by his station and trapped by decorum. He had always wanted more than that which he had in that life. Now he was getting that chance, courtesy of the army which had begun its attack on the city walls. He had escaped his captors in the confusion.
As the son of an important nobleman he had always been well treated. Even here in this backwater city of his father's enemy he had generally got his way. Anything he wanted except the right to leave. In the city many servants had been at his beck and call, however they had served a double purpose. They were there to serve him and imprison him. They had been his guards and caretakers. They were both a blessing and a curse.
His life had been privileged, he knew that, but still he had always wished for more. He looked at the lives of the common folk, the craftsmen, the soldiers and he had wished for the freedoms they had. He had wished he could leave. He had wished he could have a family. He had wished his father would return to claim him. He wished so no longer. He would not return to his father's city after his long captivity. No, he had a greater calling.
Although he knew that his father at the time hadn't had any choice that did little to lessen the sting of his father's actions. For his father, a rebel noble, had traded him years ago to an empire controlled city. The empire had required a hostage to ensure his Father's loyalty. In order to save himself and his people from the empire's invading forces he had traded away his son. In return the empire had welcomed him into its heart. But he had traded his son. There could be no forgiveness for that.
Calum breathed in deep, he smelled the fresh grass, the warm moisture from the recent rain, and he took another step away. He was now further away from that city than he had been for fourteen of his eighteen years.
New horizons awaited him, there was change coming.
When he had been trapped in the city there had been a voice which whispered to him. It had told him things, comforted him, and urged him on towards greatness. It had sent the army. Now he would find it, find its owner and join their cause. Enough of the petty squabbles of these so called lords. He was sick of it.
He would forge his own life; he would find his own trail to follow.
One day they would tremble at the sight of him. One day they would speak his name in fear.
He would make a name for himself. This he did swear.