• “After him, you fools! Don’t let him get away!” Bare feet slapped the cold, grey stone of the castle floors at rapid pace. A black cloak whipped around the corner as the young thief made a sharp turn, his prize clutched tight to his chest. He could hear the boots of the guards behind him, thundering down the corridors in hot pursuit. His heart raced faster than his feet, beating so hard that Rivaren swore it was going to burst.
    All of a sudden, he came to a double hall, where the corridors broke into a ‘T’. Rivaren stood in the middle, looking frantically back and forth between his two choices. His long, elfin ears were pressed back like those of a nervous dog as he glanced back and forth quickly. The halls looked completely different, one decorated with tapestries in shades of red and the other with shades of blue, and he knew where neither of them led. The guards were rapidly closing in on him with every second he wasted; he had to make a decision fast. Closing his eyes for a moment, he allowed the images of two animals to take form in his mind. A white Rabbit sat at the entrance of the blue hall, while a silver Fox waited in the red corridor.
    Such a method of decision-making was something Rivaren had picked up from a band of Raikol gyptans. Though they had only been passing through the kingdom, Rivaren, a boy with no knowledge of his own roots, had found himself drawn to them; the gyptans had welcomed him with open arms, as if he was one of their own. It was the first time Rivaren had ever felt truly accepted. The Raikol gyptans had been like family to him, and he’d hated to see them leave. From them, he’d learned all about the Spirit Animals – the spectral guides of the gyptans.
    He was calling upon that knowledge now, calling on the Spirit Animals to show him the path to take. Yet, seeing an Animal in both halls, Rivaren now had to decide which to follow. Both could lead him, but the boy could not take guidance from both. He let his mind turn from the Fox to the Rabbit and back again. Slowly, with eyes still closed, he stepped toward the Rabbit, but an abrupt shout jerked him roughly from his serene thoughts.
    “Thief boy!” Startled by the shout, Rivaren turned and darted down the red corridor, following the Fox instead.
    “Get back here!” The guard’s voice echoed in the halls after the thief, but Rivaren did not turn back. He could hear the guard’s boots pounding the stone floors behind him, picking up the chase. The young thief mentally slapped himself. He hadn’t meant to follow the Fox, but the guard had startled him into making a hasty move, even if it hadn’t been his original plan; he couldn’t turn back now either, not with the guard on his heels. He had to rely on the wits of the Fox now, and he hoped it would be enough.
    He suddenly spotted a door that was just barely ajar and quickly ducked inside, praying there was no one beyond the door. Leaning his back against the door, Rivaren held his breath as he listened to the heavy footfalls of the guard stomping past the door before fading off down the hallway. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked at the thin object that he still clutched close; an insignificant thing, it seemed to him, wrapped in a tattered red sash. The fourteen-year-old thief normally wore the sash tied around his waist over his white rag of a tunic, but he’d needed something to wrap the trinket in; his sash was all he’d had.
    Now, he carefully unwrapped the slender bundle, revealing an intricately-carved wooden flute. As elaborate as the carvings were, the flute seemed ordinary, yet it had been almost as if it had been calling out to the boy, drawing him to it. He couldn’t help taking it, and he didn’t understand why everyone was making such a fuss about it.
    “All this buffle…over this?” He mumbled, turning the flute over in his hands to get a good look at it. He shook his head before poking it out into the hallway to check if the coast was clear. He was about to take a step out, when a hand placed itself on his shoulder. Rivaren instantly went rigid before whirling around to face the owner of the hand, coming face-to-face with a tall, dark-haired man, whose steel-grey eyes seemed to see right through the young thief, looking deep into the boy’s soul. As tall as the man was, standing at a height of about 6'7", Rivaren noticed that his head came to just below the man’s chin. The boy had always been strangely tall for his age, something he’d noticed that he had oddly in common with the Raikol gyptans.
    Rivaren’s emerald eyes quickly swept over the man’s sapphire robe and the silver tunic and breeches. His gaze stopped for a moment on the gold silk moneybag hanging on this stranger’s leather belt. This bag’s expensive… The boy thought enviously, before his eyes snapped back up to the man’s face. Emerald met steel, and instantly they’d locked their gazes on one another.
    “That’s a beautiful flute you have there, my boy.” When the man spoke, Rivaren immediately went tense, and he stood up a bit straighter, as if as an attempt to make himself seem bigger...maybe even a bit intimidating, though it didn't seem to affect the man before him.
    “Aye, maybe.”
    “I could have sworn, by my Wizard’s Oath, that I saw a flute exactly like that in the Nest room of the Griffin Wing, here in the castle.” The man was calm, as if the boy’s attitude had absolutely no effect on him.
    “I ain’t gots a clue where’s that is.” Rivaren quipped. Then it clicked in his mind what the man had said, and he stared intently at the steel-eyed adult before him. “Wait, Wizard Oath? You’s a voodoo bug?” The man blinked, a bit caught off-guard by the remark as far as the boy could tell, before he quickly regained his composure.
    “Suppose I am a…voodoo bug, as you call it.” He remarked. Rivaren took a step back, glaring at the man a bit now.
    “Then you’s ain’t to be trusted! Voodoo bugs like you’s is always bogglin’ folks and puttin’ curses on ‘em…You’s ain’t to be trusted…”
    “Is that so?” It seemed like this man was mocking him, something Rivaren hated, and the boy clenched his fists tightly. The torches that lit the room flickered slightly all of a sudden, and a small breeze coiled around the young thief for a moment, ruffling his shaggy red hair and momentarily toying with the single white tuft in the center of the boy’s bangs. The strange thing about it was that there were no windows that would have let in the breeze. There was an odd flash in the man’s eyes, and the thief saw the look in that steely gaze change, though it didn’t entirely register in his mind since his anger and frustration was now controlling his thoughts; he’d always had sort of a short temper with certain things and had never really learned to control it. His actions now were not out of the ordinary for him.
    Suddenly, the man’s hands were on the thief’s shoulders, and Rivaren found himself locked on those steel eyes again.
    “Tell me, my boy, how did you come across that flute?” There was a hint, in his clipped voice, of the same steel that was held in those grey eyes.
    “Why’s I gots to tell you’s?” The boy retorted defiantly.
    “How did you come across the flute?” His voice was firm, and his grip on the boy’s shoulders tightened faintly. “Did it call to you? Did you hear it calling you to it?” Rivaren’s indignation evaporated to be replaced by shock. The silence that had suddenly filled the room, broken only now and then by the faint crackle of the torches, seemed to drag on forever before the boy finally found the voice to speak.
    “How…how’d you’s know?” He managed to choke out. The man loosened his grip a bit, and Rivaren saw a look of some secret knowing come into those penetrating eyes of steel.
    “The Flute of the North calls to the one who is meant for it.” He said calmly, an odd little smile playing on his lips. He fiddled with the raven-dark goatee at his chin, as though deep in thought, and that strange smile never left his lips as he gazed at the boy before him. “You, my boy, are in for an adventure.”
    “Flute of the North?”
    “Yes, one of the Four Artifacts; the most powerful talismans known to our world.” He put a hand on Rivaren’s shoulder again, still with that odd smile. “My boy, now bestowed upon you is the protection of Sage D. Goldfire by the Wizard’s Oath which I uphold.”
    “I’m a what now?” Rivaren looked at him blankly, a bit confused by the statement.
    “I, Sage D. Goldfire, am giving you my protection, and under the Wizard’s Oath, that’s a promise I must keep.” The man told him.
    “Whatever for?” Rivaren, having grown up on the streets, wasn’t quick to trust people that easily. It was only natural that he would be suspicious of the man before him.
    “You are a very special boy. There will be others after that Flute, as well as the other three Artifacts. I am bound by oath to guard the Artifacts, and while you are in possession of that Flute, I shall protect you as well…” At that moment, the door shot open, and Rivaren had to leap clear of it to avoid getting hit.
    “Thief boy!” There stood the captain of the royal guard, looking furious, with about five other guards behind him. Almost instantly, the wizard stepped forward, putting an arm out in front of Rivaren to protect the young thief.
    “Master Sage! What’re you doin’?” The captain was in shock that Sage was protecting a worthless thief, not to say that Rivaren wasn’t feeling the same as the boy looked at the raven-haired man in utter confusion.
    “I might be inclined to ask you the same question, Captain.” The steel-eyed wizard responded calmly.
    “That boy’s a no-good thief!” The captain objected. “He’s stole the Flute of the North!”
    “I am well aware that he is in possession of the Flute.” Sage replied. “However, explain to me, Captain, how one can steal what is rightfully theirs. I should like to know.” Rivaren stared at the wizard blankly, now completely lost, and Sage had that odd little smile again. The boy looked over now at the captain of the guard, and he instantly had to fight to keep from laughing. The man stood there sputtering, as if he’d just been smacked in the face by the King himself.
    “B-buh…buh…” To the thief’s amusement, the captain couldn’t say much more than that, for the sake of his utter shock. Sage just shook his head, almost in disapproval.
    “Oh, get a hold of yourself, Captain.” He retorted. “The boy is under my protection now and will be as long as he is in possession of the Flute.” When the guards continued to stand there, dumbfounded, the wizard felt obligated to give them a little shove to get going. “So go on, you foolish flock of flightless kiwi birds!” When he snapped, the captain and the rest of the guards scrambled around and ran from the room, as though afraid the wizard would hex them if they didn’t. When they were gone, Rivaren turned to Sage.
    “What’s you’s doin’ that for?” He asked. When the wizard didn’t respond, the boy grabbed his arm. “Oy! What’s you’s do that for?!” He demanded. The steel eyes suddenly locked on him again, and the boy stepped back reflexively.
    “I have already told you, as long as you are in possession of that Flute, I shall protect you. Besides, I doubt you’ll be letting go of that Flute any time soon, am I right?”
    “Aye, maybe.” Rivaren narrowed his eyes in distrust again. “Is you’s gonna do somethin’ ‘bout it?”
    “All I can do is remain with you and ensure that nothing happens to the Flute, or you, my boy.” Sage replied, giving the boy that odd smile yet again. “To put it simply, you and I will be traveling companions from this day forward.” Rivaren’s jaw dropped.
    “I gots to be stuck with a voodoo bug like you’s?” He exclaimed. Sage tapped the end of his nose thoughtfully, still smiling.
    “And I should like to know the name of my young companion.” It seemed like almost nothing could faze this man. The boy was quiet for a moment, giving the wizard another quick scan with his emerald eyes, before he finally answered.
    "Rivaren..." He said reluctantly. Sage put a hand on the boy’s head, though Rivaren just knocked the invasive hand away almost immediately out of reflex, and the quicksilver wizard still smiled that strange little smile.
    “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Rivaren.” The man declared. Rivaren blinked and slowly raised his left eyebrow, coincidentally shaped like a lightning bolt, at the steel-eyed adult before him.
    “If we’s gonna be stuck together, then you’s gots to stop with all that fancy blabber.” He quipped. Sage laughed.
    “Is that so? Well, I’d best start learning your thief slang then, shall I?” Now, Rivaren was smiling, too.
    “And you’s gogglin’ at the king teacher of thief quirp right here.” He stood up proudly, as if trying to look important, and Sage ruffled the young thief’s hair playfully.
    “I can see, my boy, that this will be the start of a beautiful friendship.” He remarked. A mischievous look glittered in the boy’s emerald eyes as he gazed at the wizard now.
    “Just try to keep up, voodoo bug.” He teased. “Just try to keep up...”