The firstborns

Kal'ahn, the Elder of the Firstborn order shivered as the vision unfolded before him.

The ax struck his body, held in the strong hands of the child of the sea, beneath the spiteful glare of the child of the mountain. One as dark as the other one was fair, their broad shoulders, straining muscles and tall frame exuded power while grit showed in their eyes. Kal'ahn swayed under the force of the ax and his life ebbed with every cut. With the last stab, his soul soared through the sky in an explosion of light. Anguish enfolded him, because he knew his destination would be the dreaded Land of Despair.

The vision dimmed and left him reeling.
"I could prevent this." the elder murmured, but his resolve was weak, as he knew well the will of the Gods was hard to bend.

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer." he continued to mutter while a plan formed within his mind.

He bent the wind, and sent a wave only his servants could hear. It slithered softly, like the sea breeze, ruffling children's hair and bringing relief to the workers who labored under the blazing sun. However, the ripple solely touched the ears of those he meant it for: the city's midwife and a mercenary lounging in the "Sailors' Haven" inn.

They both rushed to the sacred grove and parted the branches of the willow tree as they entered.

A soft breeze ruffled the long, thin boughs of the willow as Kal'ahn spoke.
"The royal family would produce an heir within the year. When he comes into the world, you must bring him to me. You must ensure he is dead to his parents and to the kingdom."

The midwife's eyes rounded and Kal'ahn ignored the horrified look on her face. He didn't relish either giving the task to the woman, although for different reasons.

The Holy Council granted Kal'ahn the Elder great powers and immortality; however, they came with a steep price. His only link with the living was this old and gnarled willow tree. He was stuck within it, otherwise he would take care of the issue himself.

He snorted and the willow branches swayed startling his guests.

"The mountain kingdom would celebrate the arrival of the firstborn soon. You must leave now to cross the plains and arrive before his birth. Take him and bring it to me."

This time the breeze rustled through the mercenary's ears and he accepted with a curt bow.

Kal'ahn moved the branches, and the wind whispered.
"Go now and don't come back without your charges."

Kal'ahn would wait and kill them himself. In that moment, another thought crossed his mind. They were firstborns, and he might gain more than safety if he made them his servants. At the right time, he would compel them to go out of hiding and demand their birthright.

He would then be the sole master of the two kingdoms. Indeed, he would let them live.

To the midwife's dismay, the queen expected the heir, as Kal'ahn said, at the end of the year. The midwife was present at his delivery, and as she was ordered, she snatched the child and told the queen her first child was stillborn.

To her greater dismay, the queen gave birth to a twin. As Kal'ahn only asked for the firstborn, the midwife believed her duty fulfilled. Relieved, she put the child in his mother's arms, and she let her assistant to finish her work.

She hurried with the stolen child to the willow tree and deposited him on the ground. The midwife waited for the promised reward. She knew she couldn't stay within the city; that questions would follow, and she would be held responsible for the firstborn's death.

She reached into the tree hollow when she heard the familiar click inside. She opened the pouch and counted the coins with greed. The midwife beamed with satisfaction, parted the willow branches and left.

Kal'ahn looked at the child who slept peacefully on the ground. The midwife served him well; however, if any of this transpired, he knew where to find her. The coins would show him the path to her, and he made sure she had plenty.

Days later, the mercenary entered the sacred space around the tree. There was no child in his arms and Kal'ahn displeasure showed in the ferocity with which the willow's branches whipped his servant's face.

"Where is he?" the wind shrilled.

"He's dead. I took him as you asked, my master. I put him down for a minute, to rest the horse and drink a sip of ale. A tornado snatched him and carried him away. As it left, the tornado grew more vicious; nothing could escape it."

"How can you be sure the child wasn't lucky enough to survive?"

The mercenary grinned, pleased with himself and pulled out of his pocket a golden chain with a mountain-shaped medallion.

"I followed the tornado at some distance and found this. It ripped the child to pieces, and many birds circled the area afterwards. The plain eagles are atrocious birds, and they ate him whole; not even a bone remained."

The mercenary shivered and Kal'ahn supposed it was a grizzly sight if his servant, responsible for many deaths, was so affected.

Kal'ahn's minion dropped the golden chain in one of the tree hollows, in exchange for the pouch full of coins he found inside. He weighed the pouch and smiled. With superiority in his voice, he strutted.

"The wench failed in her mission. The castle celebrates the birth of a heir, I heard."

Kal'ahn silently agreed. The midwife failed him when she kept the birth of the second child from him.

The mercenary raised his eyebrows at the sound of more coins in the tree hollow and reached inside for the money.

"These coins would lead you to her. Follow them and do me justice, my son. You would be well rewarded."

The servant left and Kal'ahn knew his minion would not let him down. He also knew his hireling went to spend his money in some dirty inn in the harbor until he'd call him next time.

Kal'ahn sighed and hoped that, years from now, when the time came to replace the mercenary, the newborn in his care would prove a worthier servant.

Meanwhile, the castle celebrated the birth of the heir to the kingdom. Nobody knew that Cyprian was but the second son. A fisherman found the bodies of the midwife and her assistant floating in the sea and so, with no other witnesses, the royals kept the circumstances of Cyprian's birth secret, for the peace and prosperity of the kingdom.

Amid the celebrations, nobody noticed a cloaked shape leaving a basket at the door of the stable master. A letter inside offered a generous income if he raised the child as his own or a painful death if the secret ever surfaced.

Back in the grove, Kal'ahn started to plan the future and rejoice at the power he would soon wield.

He welcomed the tingling feeling announcing a new vision. Horror overtook him, when again, the ax struck his body, held in the strong hands of the child of the sea, beneath the spiteful glare of the child of the mountain.