IN THE DAYS OF THE GREAT WARS

One day, more than three thousand years ago, before recorded time, kings were Vikings and Vikings were kings. These were dark times in the place humans knew as home—earth. In these dark times, war was just part of life. Some kings sent their men to war for all the wrong things. The dark kings sent men out so they might gain more power for their kingdoms. So the scale was tipped from time to time. Dark magic on the evil side made the dark kings harder and harder to defeat.

What was needed was something or someone to keep the scale level—or tipped in favor of the good. Some of the great kings had not been influenced by greed. These great kings made a pact to keep things in check and keep their people safe—not kill them in meaningless wars. This was what humans needed, but now the wars had been brought to their gates. They would have to get stronger or find their own magic to save children like Loot and their families and to keep them free in the future.

There were only a few large kingdoms left in South Bend in the far south, where the land started to bend back west and then north again. This was the most scenic area on earth. An ocean was on one side and a forest on the other. The forest ran all the way to the Smoking Mountains. If you could find your way to this place, you would never go back; you could not see the sky or the ground because your eyes would sting from the smoke. This was the home to the largest clan of fire-breathing beasts. The elders called it the home of the Wind Clan dragons. South Bend had park-like forests to boast about, but it was not always safe there.

Loot grew up in South Bend, and it was a great home for the young to grow and run free—if they stayed out of the forest. Loot had started his life at a place called Trans Lease, a busy place. All the trading in the land was done there, and it had been for a few hundred years. The trade ships came from a far-off land called Al-Mamlaka Al-Maghribiyya to do trade with the farmers of the region. The farmers had meadows and gardens on the river flats. The town had docks that seemed to reach to the moon and a pride that could be topped by none.

Then there was Fair Well, the coldest, darkest hole ever. Its inhabitants would act like friends, but the evil side of them would rear its ugly head and make them your worst enemy. Their black magic made the town and everyone that lived there the worst you could imagine. In Fair Well, the dead roamed.

A great raid took place at Trans Lease's palace, the stronghold of the Vikings, which had the biggest docks on the cost. But this raid was not to gain power, as the warriors had been sent there by their king for one reason: to return power to the ones that deserved it. It was to return the rule to the people until they had a true king—not the one that had taken it by force. Trans Lease was under the rule of a great king that was kind to the ones he ruled over and treated them fairly.

But the king was caught off guard by an evil force. His wife was killed in her coach while coming back from a day trip to the outer markets, for the royal family made purchases from all the shops under its rule. Just as the king found out about his wife's death, the palace came under attack and was overcome. The beast leading the attack was Drean the brother of the king of Fair Well. The people of the town of Fair Well would kill women and children without hesitation. They looked and smelled like the dead, for they had white skin, sunken eyes, and yellow teeth.

The king of Trans Lease was killed in front of all his loyal followers, and the crown was placed on the head of the evil leader of the raid. Nothing would ever be the same for Trans Lease.

When King Trea, a big, blond, happy Viking from South Bend, heard about this, he sent his army to the town's aid, in hopes of restoring some peace in the town and returning the rule to the palace. When they arrived, they knew the true king was already dead, so they swept in fast and hard. The evil Drean could not have seen it coming, or he would have held his men back from celebrating; his army was drunk from the spoils of their victory, and most had passed out. The rest had left for their hometowns with slaves for their king, Ventas Stalon This would be the last time they set foot in the town of Trans Lease if the powers had anything to say about it.

King Trea's army stormed the palace like a lightning bolt in a hailstorm. No one saw the attack coming, and no target could withstand its force. No one knows how Drean died that night, as he dropped dead when Trea's men burst into the throne room. He died in front of them with no one even near him; his wound just appeared. Mysterious as this was, they thought it had to be self- inflicted to prevent capture.

An orphan child captured outside the palace at the war's end was named Loot and given to the youngest man in the raid, Steinar, as a joke. Years before, when armies had fought wars for land, they were unpaid. The warriors had made a rule: when a war was won, the treasures of the defeated went first to the strongest and bravest. These gifts were called loot. Loot could be anything from gold to livestock. The war was not for treasures or land, and nothing was to be taken.

Loot was to be a slave to Steinar rather than left for dead. As the son of the greatest warlord ever, Steinar had all the wealth of his dead father. To kings, this was nothing, but to warlords, it was a king's ransom. When they snatched Loot, they had no idea whose son he was; they just knew he was an orphan, and now he would live out his life with Steinar and his wife.

Steinar was a kind man. He had come along that day only to do what was expected of him, and he did it well. He looked into the big blue eyes of the young, blond boy, and the connection was made. He could not treat a Viking child as a slave; Steinar would treat him the way he himself would want to be treated if he had found himself on the steps that day.

The only thing he would change would be Loot's upbringing. For he and his wife were unable to have children, and when he came home with the young boy, she said that they should call Loot their son and raise him that way. Loot was only about six months old and would never know that he was meant to be a slave. He was a happy child, running and playing games with the other kids, and making toys from wood and stones.

Loot was a special child. He was liked by everyone, and he liked everyone he met. Something pulled him to Trans Lease as he went on every trading trip with his father or family friends. The Great War was still present in the minds of the townsfolk. The damage was still in the streets, and the fear...