"Faster boys, the day is fading and we've got to get these crops to market by morning."

I wiped the sweat from my brow and knelt to pluck the carrots from the earth beneath my feet. I tossed them into the basket at my side and looked up to see my two older brothers moving swiftly down their rows, plucking and tossing with a rapidity I had never been able to accomplish. I sighed and plucked another root as Villads, my eldest brother, filled another basket and laid it at the end of the row, gathering another basket and moving to the next. Uesli was not far behind him and still I had half of my row to go. I glanced over to where my father stood, bending over a plot of his own, sweat dripping down his face on this blistering day. He wore the same scowl that seemed permanently affixed to the face of a man who was never comfortable with the amount of work he had done.

"Tyne," he snapped and I realized he was watching me, eyes narrowed in the abject fury I was used to having directed my way. "You've done only a third of what your brothers have. Work harder or I'll have you mucking out the stables by evening."

I did not answer but simply turned my attention back to my work, trying harder to pull the roots from the ground as quickly as I could. There was no purpose in arguing. I had tried all of the excuses before. I was ten years old. Villads was seventeen and Uesli was fifteen, both of them bigger and stronger, each of them practically a man in their own right while I was merely a boy. Besides strength, their age also lent them experience. They had each worked in the fields five and seven years longer than I, had grown into their manhood pulling weeds and harvesting crops. They had sold our wares at the market while I had never been allowed to go. Father said it was because of my age and because someone had to work the farm while they were gone. But I knew that wasn't the case. Uesli had first gone to market when he was seven years old. I knew, as I always had, that my father did not love me. Such was the fate of a boy whose birth cost the life of his mother.

"Is that..." Uesli said suddenly and I looked up to see my older brother standing straight up in his row, hand held to his forehead to block out the blinding sun. He was looking east, in the direction of town, in the direction of Mardenall. "Smoke?"

My father turned from his work and peered off as well. My curiosity overcame my dedication and I stood as well, mimicking my brother's shielding of his eyes, to look toward the town myself. He was right. Dark, black smoke was billowing into the sky, joining the puffy white clouds before dissipating. My father dropped his hoe. Villads set down his basket. We all stood watching the rising column, wondering what it could mean.

"Why-" Villads began after a moment but he fell silent just as quickly. He had heard it as well. The same sound I had perceived just seconds before he began talking. At first, I thought it was thunder. But then the haze upon the ridge cleared and I saw them. Twenty of them. Riders on horseback wearing the strangest armor I had ever seen. Though I was a farm boy without much experience in what armor should look like, I knew, at least, that it was metal. And theirs was not.

"Inside," our father spoke so quietly that I almost could not hear him but, as muted as his words were, his tone was firm. We obeyed without hesitation. Uesli turned and headed for our modest home the moment the word left our father's mouth. I found my feet uncooperative. I stood still, watching the riders as they watched us. Their leader, a man with fiery red hair that reached past his shoulders, surveyed our lands before a hint of a smile touched his face and he made some gesture with his hand though I could not make it out from the distance. I did not get to see what that signal had meant, either, because Villads was in front of me now, blocking my view and turning me away toward the house. He gave a little shove and my feet were moving, heading for our home, tripping over the uprooted soil as I peered over my shoulder at the riders beyond. They were coming down the hill now and my father was walking out to meet them.

"Who are they?" I asked as Villads opened the door and pushed me inside before following. Uesli was already there, bent over the table to gaze out of the window above it. We joined him there so that we could all see.

"I don't know," Villads confessed. "But father said to get inside."

"Rirdans," Uesli whispered and I looked up at him.

"Who?"

"From the country of Rirdanta. I heard a rumor in town they were headed inland."

"It's not Rirdans," Villads said firmly. "They stay on the coast."

"Until now."

Villads opened his mouth to argue but stopped. Our father had approached the leader. They had been speaking to one another, my father on the ground, the red haired man on his horse. My father had been gesturing, the leader had been smiling, it appeared to have been going well. Until the man on the horse drew his sword and stabbed my father straight through his heart. I heard my brothers gasp as our father's hands clutched his chest, becoming saturated with his own blood in moments. Then he fell forward onto his knees and then flat on the ground where he moved no more. I stared at him for a moment, at his lifeless body on the ground beneath the strange man's horse. That man had just been telling me to work harder, had just been declaring my worthlessness the same as he had every day for ten years, and now, suddenly, he was dead. Gone forever because some stranger had willed it. I blinked as my eyes dared my mind to believe it.

"Get behind me," Villads barked suddenly, reaching over me and pulling the long butcher's knife from the table beside us. He pushed us back into the corner and turned to face the door, knife in hand and sneer on his face.

"Villads, you cannot fight them," Uesli tried to reason with our eldest brother but, by the look upon his face, I knew he was beyond it. "Put the knife down. Don't threaten them. Perhaps we can-"

His sentence was cut short by the door bursting open on the opposite end of the room. A man with long, braided dark hair entered the room, turning his equally dark eyes upon us. At least three others entered behind him, all of them similar in appearance, all of them armed to the teeth. I shifted uncomfortably on my feet, casting my eyes about for another weapon in this small hut. I knew Uesli was right that we could not fight them off but if they were intended to kill us either way, I would rather at least stab them once before I perished.

"Well, well," the man crooned, lips quirking into an evil smirk as he took a step toward us. Villads straightened, brandishing the knife in threat and Uesli sighed behind him. "Three strapping young men. No wonder this farm is so well cared for. The old man had good help."

"Who are you?" Villads demanded, waving the knife frantically from the man speaking to his companion who was advancing upon us slowly from the side. "What do you want? Why are you here? Why did you kill our father?"

"So many questions. We killed your father because he is of no use to us. Rirdanta has no purpose for old men. Young men, however..."

"Stay back!"

Villads was facing the companion now who had gotten so close I could reach out and touch his leather armor if I so wished. My brother was shaking but his threat was clear. Stay away or I will attack. Unfortunately, none of the intruders seemed concerned in the slightest. Instead, the speaking man simply looked at each of us in turn as if in appraisal. His eyes lingered on me and I did not care for it. I narrowed my gaze and stared right back to let him know so. To my surprise, that only made his smile widen.

"We mean you no harm," The man spoke again. "Unless you mean to harm us."

Villads turned the knife toward him, considering. In that brief moment of uncertainty, the companion grabbed my arm and yanked it painfully to pull me to his side. Villads turned back but it was too late. I was outside of his protection now. Uesli was whispering something that I could not hear but Villads was not listening. His eyes were flicking madly from me to the intruders and back again. He was undecided, afraid, and hesitant. And they knew it.

"Come, boy, give me the knife."

The man with the braid held out his hand. My brother's shoulders relaxed and he appeared to have decided upon resignation. He slowly lowered the knife into the man's hand but then, at the last second, lashed out toward the man who had pulled me aside. Before the blade could even make contact with the leather, the speaker's own found my brother's throat. With one slash, the quickest I had ever seen, my brother slid to the ground, choking on his own blood that poured from him onto the floor of my lifelong home. I stared down at him, eyes wide in terror, stepping back from the growing puddle of blood, as the man with the braid sighed and sheathed his weapon.

"I tried to give him a chance," He told us, shaking his head in disappointment. "Foolish. What about the two of you? Are you fools?"

I hardly heard him. I could not take my eyes off of my brother. He lay still now, as still as our father, and my mind reeled trying to understand the loss of half of my family in mere minutes, their blood staining the farmland we had been working only moments ago.

"No," I heard Uesli answer and my eyes found him, the only remaining family I had left. He was already watching me, eyes narrowed in warning. "We are not fools. We will obey."

"Good."

With that, the man with the braid left the home as quickly as he had entered it. His companions produced two cords of rope and were binding our hands together. I watched my brother as they tied his arms behind his back. He gave me a nod, almost imperceptible, but I understood. We will do as they say or we will end up like Villads and father. I looked back down to my oldest brother. Only seventeen. His whole, brief life spent working this farm. For what? For it to be taken by vagabonds in an afternoon.

I felt a jerk on my bonds and turned away to see that we were being led out of the house. The world beyond was entirely different from what we had left. Our crops, years worth of growing and nurturing, were ablaze, creating a thick smoke to join the column we had been watching before, only moments ago. I watched as the basket of mine, half full with carrots, caught on fire and burned. I heard a soft whimper and turned to see Uesli watching as well, observing our livelihood burning to the ground as they led us toward the man directing it all, their leader, the man with the red hair atop the horse.

"Etel," the man with the braid spoke as we approached. "We have brought you the boys."

Their leader looked down upon us with a scrutinizing eye before he spoke. "I thought there were three."

"One of them made an attempt on my man."

"The elder?"

"Yes."

"You killed the strongest of them, Bjarni? Is that what I asked?"

The man with the braid cast his eyes to us before he turned back to his leader. "No, Etel. It is not what you asked."

"Perhaps you left Rirdanta too soon, Bjarni. If you are not ready to follow orders," I watched as the braided man's lip curled in anger and his leader spoke again. "Take them to Mardenall. Put them with the others."

Our captor nodded and, with a grunt, pushed us onward toward awaiting horsemen. He relayed the leader's orders to them and lifted us onto the back of two of his men's horses before slapping the animal's hindquarters and sending us galloping off toward Mardenall. The town was not far and we knew it well as it was the location of the market in which we sold our wares. At least, Uesli knew it well. I had never had the privilege of visiting. But, though I had never seen it before, I knew it could not have looked as it did now.

Many of the homes on the outskirts were burning, their pitch and hay roofs aflame as they helplessly tossed buckets of water at the blaze. Men lay facedown in the street, women weeping over them. More than a few mothers were crying and holding some remnant of a child; a blanket, a stuffed animal, a pair of shoes. Unrecognizable men in leather armor sacked the shops inside the walls, roughly tossing gold, coins, and silver into one of the many chests they had with them. I watched in horror as one of them ripped a strand of pearls right off of a well dressed lady's neck just before they dragged her off to do whatever they wished with her. I turned to Uesli. He had closed his eyes, bowed his head so that he would not have to see the atrocity. I could not do the same. Somehow, I knew that I needed to see this, that I needed to remember it.

We marched straight to the fortress and, as I peered up at the unbreakable stone monolith walls, I felt a sort of calm come over me. They could sack the city as they wanted, burn our farms and kill our peasants but Lord Sandon was inside and I knew he had an army. One that Villads had been hoping to join in a year when he turned eighteen. The thought of my brother brought a pain to my heart which only worsened when I saw the first of Lord Sandon's guards pierced through the abdomen and hung on an upper rampart. The breath went out of me then as my eyes ventured down the line to see more of them, spaced out at odd intervals all around the gates. Soldiers wearing the deep purple of Vyndoli and the autumn orange of Lord Sandon and Mardenall, strung up and impaled on the upper edges of the walls and in the town below. No. It couldn't be. But, as our captors approached the gates and they opened easily at their presence, I knew it was. Mardenall had fallen.

Inside were hundreds of them. All clad in leather, long hair blowing in the afternoon breeze, thrusting their swords through fallen Vyndolians, murdering the injured and ensuring the death of all others. Then they looted them, bending to retrieve any tokens of value from the fallen soldiers. I looked away. At ten years old, I could only take so much. Luckily, we were soon dismounting our horses. My brother and I could not jump from the saddle on our own, tied as we were. So we were lifted from the horse and set onto the solid ground. I turned back in time to see one of the Rirdantan soldiers slap a crying woman across the face and reach for the hem of her dress. Then I was shoved into the fortress ahead and we were descending a set of stone stairs into what I imagined were the dungeons below. It was not quiet. The voices of hundreds floated toward us in the dark. All of them boys. I heard sniffling, whimpering, sobbing, screaming, and muttering all at once, all coming from below. I hesitated on the steps, unwilling to join them, but I was pushed forward from behind and nearly stumbled as I descended to my fate.

We walked past cell after cell full of tired, hungry, terrified boys, most of them likely now orphans, all of them now belonging to Rirdanta and whatever purpose these men saw for us. Uesli and I were shoved into one at the end and the iron door was locked soundly before our captors left us, turning to ascend back to the chaos. It took some time for my eyes to adjust but, once they did, I saw that we were not alone. Three other boys occupied our space with us.

"Hello," one of them said. He was the closest to us, seated on the floor with his back against the wall beside the door. He was skinny and very pale, his face very gaunt, but his eyes were still lively as he spoke to us. "I'm Shaw. My father was a butcher. This is Kipp and Litton. They were orphans."

"Orphans," I repeated, realizing that I fell into that category as well now.

"I'm Uesli and this is Tyne. We were farmers," My brother spoke and Shaw nodded. "How long have you been here?"

"Two days. At least, I think so. Hard to tell time down here. There's some up the hall a bit who've been here a week. It's not terrible. They feed us at least. Twice a day if we're lucky. Though it's only gruel."

"What do they want with us?" My brother asked. Shaw shrugged.

"I don't see as it matters. The fortress has fallen. Our families are dead. We're still living. Call that a blessing or a curse as you wish."

With that, we spoke no more. We simply sat in silence, each of us lost in the thoughts of our present situation. I watched Uesli for some time as he sat against the wall with his head back against the stone, eyes closed. I listened to Litton coughing so frequently I thought he might not make it through the night. Finally, what seemed to be hours later, the door to our cell opened and a man stood in the frame. He seemed familiar but they all looked alike in their armor.

"You two," he gestured at Uesli and I. "Come."

We obeyed as if we had any other option and followed the man from the cell into the hall, nodding back at Shaw, Kipp, and Litton as we left. We followed the man back through the hall, up the stairs. I saw more of the captives now that my eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Some of them were covered in dirt, some of them starving, all of them lifeless.

We emerged into a long stone hall, torches set in sconces in the wall every ten feet, and walked on toward the end of it. Our escort stopped just before the final door and knocked on one closer. I heard a voice calling us inside as the man pushed it open and nudged us in and I found myself standing across from the man they called Etel.

"Etel Albo," our escort said from behind us, blocking the door so that we could not escape. "These are the last of your captives."

"All others have been assigned?"

"Yes, Lord."

"Good. Thank you Kolos. You may go."

The man bowed and left the chambers. It was then that I noticed the woman at Etel Albo's side. She was tall and very pretty with curves visible even beneath her thick armor. Her eyes were heavily shaded as if with smoke and her lips were painted a dark black. They curled into a smile as her eyes met mine to find me watching.

"What are your names?" Etel asked when the four of us were alone.

"I am Uesli," My brother answered for us. "And this is Tyne."

"Can Tyne speak?"

"When required," I answered, gritting my teeth in anger toward the man who murdered my father. Uesli pinched my thigh in warning but I ignored him, staring daggers at the man seated across from me instead. He, however, only seemed amused.

"Well, Uesli, Tyne. You appear to be very strong, very capable young men."

"Thank you, Sir," Uesli said and I turned my glare to him. How dare he show such reverence for this man?

"As Bjarni mentioned to you, we do not kill those who can be useful. Can you be useful?"

"Yes, Sir."

Etel smiled up at the woman who smiled back.

"Good," He spoke after a moment. "I am glad to hear it. The two of you have knowledge of farming. You are also no stranger to hard work. Rirdanta is in need of your service as much as Vyndoli. But, in order to provide this service, I need to know that you will not harbor ill will toward my people. Yes, we have taken your town. Yes, we burned your farm. We killed those who defied us, those who threatened us. Give us no reason to kill you, and you will survive. Is that something you think you can do?"

"Yes, Sir."

I stared at Uesli, shocked. How could he offer such obedience to this man? To this murderer? This barbarian? Only hours ago, these people murdered our father and our brother, burned down our home, and locked us away in a dungeon. Had he already forgotten? Was the life being promised to us for our obedience even worth living?

"Tyne?" Etel asked, turning his attention to me. I looked away from my brother then, to the man sitting at some ornate Vyndolian desk in front of us, surrounded by Vyndolian books, histories of our country. He did not belong here. None of them belonged here.

"I will not," I heard my voice grinding out the words in anger. Etel raised his eyebrows in a hint of surprise.

"Tyne, please," Uesli warned. "Sir, please, he is only a boy. He does not know-"

"I will not follow murderers," I said, interrupting my brother. "I will not become a barbarian. If my alternative is death, I choose it gladly. I will not be one of those men below, ripping the clothes off of helpless women and stabbing the innocent. I will not assist you in the kidnapping of further children of my country. If this is the Rirdantan way of life, I choose death."

"Tyne, no! Please, sir. He doesn't understand. Please, don't kill him."

I listened to my brother pleading for my life as my eyes remained firmly on the Rirdan leader staring back at me. He tapped his fingers on the desk in front of him in contemplation, watching me with interest as my brother begged him to spare me. I doubted he even heard the words.

"Uesli, you will go with Kolos. You will find him just down the hall. Tell him I have decided that you are to be sent to Hilmvost. For training."

My brother froze, eyes flicking from me to Etel and back. His mouth opened and closed but no sound came out.

"Now, Uesli."

After another moment of hesitation, my brother left the room, following the orders given to him by his new commander. I remained where I stood, narrowing my eyes at the brute in front of me, challenging him to give in to my wishes, to kill me right here. I truthfully did not care. Without my brothers, without my farm and my father, I had no life left to live. He might as well take what little of it I had remaining.

"You will go to Kazmer."

The woman's head snapped in Etel's direction. Her lips parted in surprise.

"Etel," she gasped. "He is just a boy."

"Yes," Etel agreed, standing and leaning toward me. "He is a child. And children must be taught to behave. You are brave, boy, I will give you that. You have bravery to rival some of our greatest warriors. There is a strength in you. Even now. After all you have suffered. It could be useful. If you would let it. But you have a spirit, as well. You are reckless and you are disrespectful. But spirit can be broken. And Kazmer is the place to do it. Eija. Take him to the boats."

The woman closed her eyes, took a breath, and then stepped forward. She held out a hand. "Come, Tyne. You must join the others."