Adren spotted a line of smoke on the horizon as he crested the hill behind his house. He looked up at the sky, glanced back at his house, then returned to look at the line of smoke.
"Father!" he called. "I see smoke on the horizon."
His father, crouching in the vegetable garden, called back. "How much?"
"A small amount. It looks bigger than a campfire, though, and is in the direction of the desert." Adren walked down the hill to join his father.
"Hmm," said the old man. He returned to his weeding.
"I want to investigate," said Adren.
"It is far, I would guess."
"I have been to the desert alone before."
"Indeed you have."
"I can take Runi with me."
"That would be wise."
"Then I can go?"
Adren's father peered at him from beneath his wide brimmed hat. "Adren, my son. You have recently come of age. It is not for me to make decisions for you anymore." He turned around and began making his way through the vegetable garden, towards the back door of their diminutive house.
Adren stood for a moment, uncertain. He swallowed and looked up at the smoke again.
"I will be back before dawn."
His father turned and smiled at him. "I will expect you then, my son."
With a bag of food, a knife, and a long rope, Adren saddled his horse and rode off towards the rising smoke, the setting sun casting his long, bluish shadow against the trees as he passed.
YOU ARE READING
Seraphim
FantasyThe one who was chosen to defeat the unstoppable and ever reincarnated king of the East Wind, she who was trained by the monks of Isdrasil, she who was called Seraphim, has vanished. Magonia will soon be overrun. Sevalyn, the Seraphim, does not care...
