Glyph

Part One

It had been nearly an hour since we started, leaving nothing to do but sit and catch out breath. The sun was up entirely now, illuminating the circle we had just finished sparring in. The ground was scarred more than usual and the grass along the fringe was slightly scorched. It was a good session overall.

I sat still, wiping some sweat from my forehead with the back of my arm. I tossed my hair back away from my eyes. I always wanted to keep it short, but it grew too fast for me to keep track of. The sun made it look almost golden, but it was really a shade of darker brown. Though I never thought of myself as anything but average, I have gotten compliments on my dark hazel eyes and soft facial features. I threw my gaze and my thoughts at my partner, a boy my age with a similar build and much darker hair. He had unmistakably blue eyes that stared back intently at me as he caught his breath. He stood taller than me though, but not by much. People around here were surprised tall, skinny guys like us could fight so fiercely.

“Good bout.” I commented. “Are you as spent as I am?” I asked, breathing at a normal pace again.

“You always want to hold on to something, in case you need it.” He replied. I had always admired his vigor. He knew everything when it came to fighting and glyphs. “I’m also at a natural advantage. Your strength is based on nature while mine is with fire. Everything you can grow, I can burn down.” He added, raising his arm to show the symbols tattooed on his forearm. I glanced down at mine and had to agree. His were more smooth and flowing. Mine were jagged and coarse, further identifying us as opposing. These glyphs had always proved interesting. Without them, I don’t think he and I would have met.

It was fall when we encountered each other. We must have been enchanted at nearly the same time. Neither of us had full understanding of the power our arms had. My father had done the markings on my arm while his uncle did the ones on his. Having just gotten this great gift, I was cocky and eager to find a reason to use it. He was the only one around I thought I could beat.

In the park, we crossed paths and saw the markings on our right arms. The same thought must have crossed our minds at the same moment, because we both uttered out “I challenge you!” at the same time. With that set, we found an empty space and went at it like arrogant eight year olds.

He took the victory in the end, but it didn’t stop. We grew a friendly rivalry in an effort to get stronger. It was no surprise that we soon grew into close friends. He became the brother I never had; older brother of course. I was never really able to beat him.
“Up for another go?” He called over, standing up once more.

“Sorry, but I think I’m spent.” I said, standing too. We were even dressed alike, garbed for the fight. We had long-shorts to keep mobility but coverage in the brisk, spring air and pair of shirts both long and short sleeve. We had our right sleeves rolled up to expose the glyphs we used so frequently.

“Always did finish second, Rosh.” He said with a laugh, approaching me. “Good match.” He said, extending his hand.

“Same to you.” I replied, shaking his hand. Life seemed good at this point.

Our village had evaded the effects of the last war. We were far enough away from the front that we didn’t even need to send our own into the fray. However, we were also neglected after the war. We were part of the winning territory, but saw none of the effects. It was like before the war; fending for ourselves without help from the king’s guard when bandits would come. But, we did manage to survive. It has been twenty years since the Glyph War, and eight years since I met Gideon. He never knew his parents, as they left him with his uncle. I grew up in a farming family. My father studied Glyphs as a hobby and instilled his passion for them in me.

Glyphs are a wonder in themselves. Some years before the kingdom of Renferis was established, humanity discovered that a hidden well of magnificent powers within ourselves could be tapped with the help of special markings. The easiest way to channel this power was through the arm. Glyphs themselves are only streaks of ink. They respond and change depending on the power in the person. Each person has a unique gift. The glyph does nothing but expose that gift for use. Of course, such power couldn’t end peaceably.

The powers collided in what became known as the Glyph War. Our kingdom fell divided between the East and West. This division lasted several decades and came to an end when the west overtook the east and seized control. That became our standing today.
After the sparring match, we parted ways and left for our respective homes. The night was going to be calmer. I arrived home to see my father bringing in the last of the planting equipment. I helped with the last bit and followed him in for dinner. It was a quiet supper and a quiet evening. I left for bed at a normal time.

That night though was much worse than I could have feared. I woke up, hot and annoyed. It wasn’t normal for it to be so hot this early in the year. I tossed the blanket aside and felt no relief. As I sat up to try and find the latch on my window, I found something else was responsible for this heat; the house was burning down around me. I got up quickly and burst into the hall to see my father coming towards my room and my mother running out. Seeing me, he waited and helped me catch up.

We pushed out of the house just before it collapsed inward. Before we could panic about the loss of our house, we looked around and saw the entire village was befalling the same fate. Row after row of houses burned. Our field was on fire as well. My father and I left to help put out the fires. He had no distinct power in his glyph, leaving him to help with conventional methods. I, on the other hand, turned to my gift to help out.

I placed my hand on the ground and focused on my arm. The glyph began to glow green and soon, the un-burnt grass grew rapidly. It was quick to cover the house and suffocate the flames. I went to repeat the process.

There weren’t many houses left, but the last one proved deadly. I was about to grow another cover when someone called out “There’s someone inside!” I looked up to see my father coming out with another man over his arm. As he got close to the door, a thunderous noise overshadowed the sounds of the roaring fire. A massive path of flames rose from the ground and cut right through the front of the house. Everything that was there had been reduced to smoldering cinders. This was no ordinary trick.

I looked over to where the flames had shot from and watched in disbelief as Gideon took his hand from the ground and stood. Before I could shake the answers I wanted out of him, he ran off into the night, leaving a burnt village and many orphans.

My father died that night. That night, I decided to leave and find Gideon. Only I had seen him, leaving only me with a reason to find him. The village was all but dead now, with barely a handful of survivors to its name. My mother stayed behind with the rebuilding effort. I left to find my answers and, at the time, kill my best friend.