Dedicated to Saskia (again) – I think you will just have to be my muse!

A man was running through the forest, the charred remains of a set of wings hanging limply from his shoulder blades. His hair, silver before its time, hung to his shoulders in a matted mess. Looking from side to side, his green gold-flecked eyes searched out the depths of the forest around him. Tripping, he stumbled into an open glade. Turning his face to the stars, he waited, as the foot falls of his pursuers slowed behind him. Half hidden in the dark shadows of the trees cast in the moonlight they stood. The injured man slowly turned to face them, all traces of fear and desperation gone from his face.

"You swore to serve your King and Country, Gaelf – Or have you forgotten?" questioned one of the men, stepping forward into the moonlight. Gaelf lifted his head in defiance, the image of a fallen angel.

"I have not forgotten – but I also swore that I would use my power for what is right and good - This war is neither of those things. You are too power hungry and blind to see that for once, the King is not following the path of righteousness."

"You have already deserted, Gaelf" said the other man, stepping forward to join his colleague "Do you intend to add treason to your crimes? Give yourself up now, and reaffirm your loyalties to the King – Your punishment will be lessoned."

"Align myself to a corrupted King?" retorted Gaelf disdainfully, "I would sooner die."

"Then so be it." Answered the first man "You will be executed immediately"

Gaelf yet again turned his eyes to the stars as he whispered to himself

"Some things are worse than dying. Betraying your own beliefs willingly – that will tear apart your very soul"

Clasping his hands in front of him he allowed the ribbons of fire pouring from the hands of his executioners to consume him. Moments later his charred body collapsed to the soft earth as the ribbons of flame released him and raced towards the stars.

-HMC-

I pushed myself up off my mattress, the embers of the fire still glowing in front of my eyes. My sheets were twisted haphazardly around my legs. Flashes of my dream passed before my eyes. Sick to my stomach of the pictures in my recurring dream, I climbed out of bed, wiping the beads of sweat from my brow. Disentangling my legs from my sheets, I summoned a small blue ball of light that floated above my head. Making my way to my desk, I pulled out an old box of newspaper cuttings. I flicked through them, scanning the titles, reading by the light shed by my magic ball.

'MASTER MAGE GAELF DEFEATS GHOSTS OF ARCHINIA'

'GAELF IS ANGEL OF LIGHT'

'GODSEND GAELF SAVES FIRETORN CASPIRION'

The man from my dreams starred in the pictures was the man from my dreams, the man from my past…my father… You're confused? Let me explain.

Azriel Gaelf was my father. He was a high mage, a supremely talented mage who could perform all types of magic – magic's associated with air, earth and wind – anything conceivably done by magic, he could do. He was the hero of the people, always fighting for peace, saving the masses from the evils of this world. Until the Great War. The Great War was the brainchild of King Marcrius IV. He wanted to invade Diatrian to expand Ingary and his kingdom. Unknown to most, my father rebelled and died for his desertion. Brought back dead to the capital, he was hailed as a war hero who made the ultimate sacrifice for our country – though in reality he had never fought the war. At this point Lettie and I were only 2.

The unsuspecting public believed what the King told them – apparently he had given his life saving an entire platoon of soldiers - and mourned his passing accordingly. I also believed this, disregarding a recurring dream of his death as a misguiding pining for a father I never knew. That changed when I was 8. A game of hide and seek led me to a pile of boxes where I found my fathers old diary. Inside was a detailed account of his rebellion against what he called a 'corrupt' King, and now confirming my dream as true. Around the same time, by pure accident, I found that I had inherited his skills as a high mage. Though young, I could see that my father's death was a result of his occupation – he was a rare commodity that the crown was not willing to give up. He was the people's mage, commandeering a large amount of power from the King. If he hadn't had that power, he wouldn't have ended up dead, for he would not have been able to sway the people's opinion.

Dropping the box, I opened my window and leaned out into the pre-dawn air.

"Oh Father…", I whispered, staring out across our gardens and into the forest beyond them.

I had always promised myself that I would never get myself in to my father's position - a choice between King and country, and my own conscience. I never let on about my talents, and by the age of 10, I had formulated a plan through long hours of study of how to purposely flunk the testing that a mage child underwent when they were 12, in order to determine their course of study. In the history books there were stories of 'untalented' mages – weak mages without much magic, only able to complete the simplest spells and sorceries. With no specialisation I would not be required to sign an oath swearing my allegiance to the king, and be free to do as I wished once I graduated. I could learn how to be a high mage out of school hours with help of books and what I had witnessed in class, but without the social status and responsibility that came with the title.

And so I studied. I studied how to fail. And I disappointed all of Ingary. Some thought I was traumatised from growing up without a father; some accused my mother of having an affair. I shrugged it all off. I also trained myself how to protect myself physically and learnt slight of hand, in case I slipped up and used magic that I then had to explain away. And I did it.

I, Samara Rhiannon Gaelf, daughter of the High Mage Azriel Gaelf, was declared untalented.

These days (I'm now 16) I live on the fourth floor (you could call it the attic) of a modern mansion. My mother has her quarters on the second floor, my sister on the third. The ground floor is kept for entertaining and the servants are housed in accommodation in a smaller building down the side of the house, near the stables. The luxury we live in is paid for through my father's savings and compensation from the King. I spend my days in the most un-ladylike ways, much to my mother's horror, when she cares to remember my existence. To speak plainly I am shunned by the majority of society – and to be honest, I don't particularly care. I sometimes help out with the servants, and have to try and pander to my mother's every whim when she remembers me…I think you get the point that I was the lowest of the low. Don't call me Cinderella if you value your kneecaps.

As the sun peeked up over the horizon, I walked away from the window, my ball of light still following me as I made my way to my dresser. Opening my draws I pulled out clean clothes – a pair of tan breeches and a crisp white short sleeve shirt, as well as a breast band and loincloth. I walked to the bathroom and ran a bath, discarding my night gown as I went. After soaking in the bath I dressed. My shirt was several sizes too big, the way I liked it. Rummaging around in my draw I found an old worn brown leather belt with a gold buckle. I cinched it tightly around my waste. Walking to the mirror I was met with eyes identical to those of the man in my dreams. Running a hand through my red hair I sighed. In all honesty, I'm a tomboy, but my hair is my one vanity – floating past my waist in red waves. Bringing myself back to reality I deftly plaited it, securing it with a strip of plain linen. Picking up my knee high, lace up boots from the end of my bed, I slipped them on, before lacing them up tightly.

As if on cue, as I just finished tying my laces a small pebble came soaring in through my open window, hitting my bed post. I leant over and picked up the offending pebble before throwing it back out the window. Once it had cleared my window frame I used my magic to guide it towards my target. A muffled yell came from outside. Leaning out of my window, I grinned at my wounded friend.

"Unfair, My Lady Samara." came the disgruntled voice from below.

The voice belonged to my best and lifelong friend, Polaris Anglis. He also happens to be the only person who knows of my secret, and my talented untalentedness, if you get what I mean.

"Getting a little impatient there Miss Polly?" I retorted. I could almost feel his glare in the dim morning light. He hates being called Polly, about as much as I hate being called 'My Lady'. I heard him mutter under his breath about me being swallowed up by the ground. Polaris is an Earth Mage. He's tall and lanky, with hazel brown eyes and cropped brown hair.

Swinging my legs over my window ledge I dropped the four floors to the ground, landing lightly in front of my friend.

"Show off" he muttered good humouredly. I shrugged in response

We walked side by side through my extensive back garden in companionable silence, before vaulting the back fence and making our way into the woods beyond.

"So...are you ready to go back to college?" he asked

Polaris and I were both heading into our last 2 year course at Sulliman's College, as we were both 16. You could only graduate as a fully fledged mage when you were 18.

"Not really – It's all so tediously boring..." I replied, with a large sigh

As an untalented mage, the majority of my classes were theory with the odd potion and charm class added in. Polaris grinned at my dramatics.

"Your own choice there Sam." he said. I shrugged.

Suddenly the trees we were walking in started to thin out as we approached a clearing in the middle of the wood. In front of us was a sloping hill. A shouted greeting from a dark silhouette on top of the hill caught our attention. Punching Polaris lightly on the shoulder, I issued and unspoken challenge. I raced forwards towards the silhouette and its voice, standing at the crest of the hill. I smoothly vaulted a fallen log on the edge of the clearing as I made my way out of the woods, laughing as I heard Polaris chase after me, yelling things at my back along the lines of 'cheating'... ah well...

Reaching the crest of the hill, we greeted the 5 figures waiting for us with yells. Slowly I pulled up, only slightly out of breath and I was greeted by the easy smile of Seth Ilamondis, a beanpole of a blond light mage. Next to him was Articus Devere, a broad shouldered fire mage with a tendency for pranks. Then there was a quiet Veridan Montagne, a studious plant mage. Lastly there was the double act – Cherson and Nathaniel Azruel who were water and air mages. As Polaris jogged up, Articus tackled me in a hug.

"Long time, no see Gaelf." he commented, mussing my hair.

Scowling at him, I returned the favour as he laughed good naturedly. Seth and Polaris shook hands and exchanged some quiet words while Cherson and Nate argued about who was going to hug me next. Rolling my eyes at their typical behaviour, I pulled them into a hug at the same time.

"Some things never change, do they?" I muttered sarcastically

"Nope!" they replied in unison. I pulled away laughing.

It was good to be all back together. We may have been classified as the 'rejects' of our year at school, but these guys were the best friends I could hope for. My sister, typically, was in with the popular group and the rest of our 60 strong year were fairly non-descript in social standing. We generally met so early in the morning to avoid the censure of our peers.

Once all our greetings and social pleasantries had been exchanged (It has been 4 weeks since we all met up), we settled down to catch up on all the news. Perching on a rock, I brushed a few strands of wayward, glowing copper out of my eyes. The others also found places to sit, or sprawled out over the grass. Polaris twiddled his fingers in a circular motion, summoning a few small pebbles to spin above his upturned face.

"Show off" I muttered, returning his words from earlier. He scowled at the reference. Veridan smiled.

"You pair are almost as bad as Cherson and Nate"

Polaris and I sat up straight and declared in unison

"We are NOT!"

"Proving my point there guys." said Veridan, shaking his head as he fiddled with a buttercup.

"There is no way..." started Nate

"...that Sam and Polly..." continued Cherson, ducking the pebble thrown at him for the use of Polaris's hated nickname.

"...will ever be as in..." said Nate

"...sync or as argumentative..." said Cherson

"As us!" they finished together

Veridan blinked a couple of times before glaring at them.

"You've been practicing" he muttered. Seth laughed.

"I forgot just how weird your double act was when I was in Caspirion."

"Something I'll never have the fortune to forget." said Articus "You don't have to live next door to them... 2 am in the morning and their still arguing about something that happened 10 hours earlier."

Laughter rang through the group as Cherson and Nate said

"Guilty as charged."

"Well it was your fault...you were being unreasonable..."accused Nate

"Was not – If my memory serves me correctly..." The twins dissolved into their previous argument, much to the amusement of the rest of us.

"Those two are incorrigible" said Veridan, put out by being proven wrong.

Silence descended on the group until Seth broke it.

"So, Sam...any interesting...um...errrr...developments over the hols?"

There was the slightest spark of pity in his eyes. he and the others had always hoped on my behalf that I would 'develop' and find my talent. With a twinge of guilt, I glanced at Polaris. Usually he would smile sadly at me, and I'd continue to lie. Today, he looked mildly thoughtful as I muttered my answer.

"no."

Gazes shifted awkwardly between the other guys. I stood, scuffing my feet. My eyes travelled towards a clump of oak trees.

"I'm going to see if I can find any fallen branches suitable for another set of pipes." I said. Inwardly I sighed. This happened every year, 2 weeks before we went back to college.

"I'll come with you." piped up Polaris

Everyone looked at him. No one had ever come with me after I was asked I that question. He shrugged .

"I want to talk to her." I shrugged as well, heading towards the trees. Polaris matched my stride as we walked. Drawing a slight wind using the power within me, I sent it behind me, to carry back the rest of the group's conversation. Closing my eyes, I focused, supporting myself on the nearest tree.

"Do you reckon he fancies her?" That was definitely Articus. I bit back a grin.

"She's like our sister – he can't!" chimed in the Azruel twins.

"Just let them be. If he does, good for them. Sam needs someone to look after her." That was Seth. I scowled at his assumption. I needed no such thing.

I was brought back by Polaris snapping his fingers in front of my face. He raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"They were debating on whether you were talking to me alone to ask me out or not." I said

"Don't get your hopes up." he returned. I grinned.

"It never even crossed my mind – But what did you want to talk to me about?"

Polaris scuffed his shoe on the ground, digging a slight hole in the dirt.

"You might want to collect your branches first." he said, not meeting my inquiring gaze. I shrugged, before closing my eyes and using my magic to search out the dry but healthy branches I desired to hollow out for my pan pipes. Opening my eyes, I walked to the base of a relatively young tree and began sorting through the fallen branches from a storm a week ago, muttering under my breath as I went.

"Too brittle"

"Too thing"

"Too damaged"

"That'll do"

"Rotten"

"Too many bugs"

Holding a particularly fine switch up to the light, Polaris finally spoke.

"I think you should tell them."

"Mhmmmmm...tell them what?" I asked, not really paying attention. Polaris sighed before replying.

"Never mind."

His tone had me worried. I focussed on his face.

"You've started something, and now you're going to finish it. So. What were you going to say?" I said as I straightened and looked directly into his eyes.

He glanced heavenward, as if praying for strength before, returning my steady gaze.

"I think you should tell them about your power." His words came out in a rush.

My jaw dropped as the forest fell into silence around us.

"WHAT?"

And there we go. Basically 3000 words. And a lot of effort. Seeing as this was all written out by hand first during math, chem, biol and lit. Well, mainly math.

Hopefully my inattention in class paid off, and you enjoyed this – let me know by sending me a review (you know you want to!)

Kylara-Jade

xxx

More to come!