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STOLEN BY THE PAST Chapter One: The carriage creaked and swayed as it made its way through the rough country roads. A light spattering of rain hit the sides and forced Had'Rian to move into the centre of the seat, out of its spray. He looked up into the sky. Not many clouds could be seen. To his experienced eye, Had'Rian knew that the rain would soon pass over. He wondered what would greet him in Elissarro. Of course, Layana - and her three Elder guardians - but what else? It seemed strange to him that after two years the woman would suddenly want for their company so badly that she would request they pick up their lives and move to her village. A nagging doubt tugged at the base of his skull. At least he was getting out of Fehn, he reasoned. It brought a smile to his round cheeks. The town of Fehn had not been the home of his choice. It stood neatly at the borders of Lucretious's land. The view was always of Sandpoint; the memory was always of death. But its graveyard played host to Abhner's body and so Behan had not wanted to leave. Had'Rian turned to observe his lover. So perfect and mortal, vulnerable and young. Had'Rian wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around his tiny body and protect him from the harshness of the world. But Behan could not be protected. He had already seen the worst that life could bring and living with those memories had taken its toll on the youngster. Only eighteen years old and already Behan had lost all of his family and his home. He dreamed now in sleep and Had'Rian never wanted to wake him. His soft cheeks puffed out slow breath, his eyes rolled behind the closed lids. Unable to resist, Had'Rian stroked gentle fingers through Behan's muddy-brown hair and kissed his warm forehead. It had not been healthy for the friends to stay in Fehn for all this time but Behan had needed it and Had'Rian loved him so damn much he would give him anything he wanted.
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Settling back in his seat again, he thought about the others following behind. Silas, with his best friend Fina. How naughty the twosome were, no longer seeing the dangers of the world: happy and innocent the way all children should be. Silas's soft mind had been a blessing in these times. It had made the battle on Sandpoint's top easy to forget and the painful scars on the boy's back were no longer seen by their owner's eyes. Had'Rian would prefer not to remember the weeks that had followed their return from Sandpoint. The company in tatters, Layana already gone, Behan grieving for his dead brother and hating her for leaving him to deal with the pain alone. Silas had cried every day, had cursed both Had'Rian and Tajar when they had bathed his wounds and applied creams and potions given to them by the town's doctor. In time the seeping blisters had hardened and crumbled. Now, two years later, Silas's skin was pockmarked with smooth, pink scars that covered his back like a map. One more member of the company lingered in Fehn. Tajar - Had'Rian's best friend for over a century. The company's stay in Fehn had been partly Tajar's choice. That choice had cost him his freedom. Young and compulsive, Tajar had fallen in love with the first man that had opened his doors to them upon their return from battle. That man had made Tajar happy but Had'Rian had always disliked him. Deilan was his name. Immortal and far too old for Tajar. Deilan was stuck in his ways, as most immortals of his age were.
Some times Tajar had had bruises on his cheeks, his arms pinched by fingers too strong. No, Had'Rian had not liked Deilan and he was glad that Tajar had finally admitted that their relationship was over. With that decision made, the company had quickly packed up their belongings and were now making their way across the countryside.
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