The Opening

Chapter One

“There, in the dawn, the hero found his King, like an animal finds its food…”

- From the Book of Tribes

The Fellhawk Road began at the gates of the clan’s compound and led into the depths of the Great River Forest. The first several strides along the road were lined with pale green cabbage shrubs and crimson hyacinths, serving more as a welcome home than a warm send-off; the Fellhawks enjoyed returning home far more than beginning a journey.

At sixteen years, Tyrian Fellhawk knew this road better than any of his clan: he travelled it every day for work; he spent his leisure time wandering its many subsidiary pathways, clearing and maintaining all of it. He recognized every dip and gash. The bulky wagons that carried split wood, and the heavy brunblakk dray horses that pulled them, chipped away at the smooth surface he took so much pride in. He made a mental note of every hole to fill later. And he would always take a moment to clear the fallen leaves to the side, if only for appearance.

Indeed, the well-cared-for soil of the Fellhawk Road felt comforting and familiar beneath his feet. The dirt smelled sweet, unlike the musty forest soil beyond. It was his road more than anyone else’s, he thought. But for the boy the road leading away from the Fellhawk compound was exactly that—a road away; it was his garden, a living thing to cultivate that provided peace and solitude for him. In other ways, with his clan having no structured faith, the road served as an altar for him where he could physically kneel and pray. The moist soil absorbed the boy’s nomadic anger.