The Chase - 1. Chapter 1

The night felt damp, though no rain fell. Our hero, if you can call him that, moved soundlessly through the dark, as though his feet never touched the ground. He was quite young - he looked to be in his late teens. He gripped a large staff with what seemed to be an eagle carved into the top of it.
The sounds of a chase followed him. Men wielding swords were shouting to each other, and holding flaming torches aloft, trying to see through the veil of darkness surrounding them. He knew they were close, but he needed more time. He didn't have the energy to fight them all, now.
He had chose a corn field to attempt to hide in, but this was a hindrance as much as a help. With the vast amounts of twists and turns he had made, it made it impossible for him to know which way he'd came from.

He exited the corn field, and fell in surprise. He was now within view of the farm house. He couldn't be seen. He knew the villagers had been told of a brown haired, blue eyed and fair skinned boy wearing a dark red cloak, as the Royal Guard were after him. He scrambled up, and ran back through the corn chutes. He could hear the Guard shouting to each other to the left of him. They were getting too close for comfort, now. He ran in the opposite direction and found himself, again, out of the protection of the corn chutes. But now no farmhouse was in view, but instead a barn. This was exactly what he'd been looking for; a place to rest. If he could just relax a little, he'd be able to concentrate and build up his energy again.
He ran to the door, opened it slightly, slipped in, and swiftly closed it behind him.

It was pitch black in the barn and it also stank of cow pat. The owners obviously needed to clean it out.
It wouldn't take that much energy, would it? And it'd be easy to maintain. No one would notice, either. He gripped his staff slightly tighter, and tapped it against the ground. The eyes of the carved bird sat atop it began to glow dimly. As the light flooded the room he found himself in a relatively normal barn. A cow lay in the corner, staring at the intruder to its home.
“Moo!” called out the cow. It was obviously feeling rather annoyed at the sudden light.
Hay was everywhere, and he decided to sit on the clump of it in the far corner. He began to catch his breath and concentrate on replenishing his energy. He could feel it returning to him, faster than the dim light from his staff was sapping it. He had only just realised how much sweat was dripping from him, how much his legs ached and how filthy his cloak had became. He sat there for what felt like 5 seconds, but was more like 10 minutes, and his energy had just about returned to him when he heard a man call out. The sounds of footsteps came; fast footsteps.
The Guard were near, but he was ready for them now. He stood, and tapped his staff against the floor again. The dim light ceased, just as the barn door began to open. Our hero quickly hid behind the nearest pile of hay, and readied himself for the imminent fight.

As the stable door creaked open, a bright flickering light filled the room. The cow, again, stirred.
“Moo!” came its objection. Torches lighting their way, the Royal guard made their way into the barn, towards his hiding place. He gripped his staff tighter. He could feel the warmth of their torches. Ah, warmth; there was something he hadn't felt in a while. But right now he needed to focus. One wrong move and it'd be over for him. The first glint of a sword came into view, and this was the time he chose to make his move. He shot out from his hiding spot and began to twirl his staff as if it were a mere long staff. There was uproar, and the guards were shouting things, that were unrecognisable in all the commotion, at each other. There were 9 of them. Three guards lunged at him, sword first. He thrust his staff, long ways, in an upward motion, blocking them all at once, and twirled it knocking all three of the swords to one side. The others ran forward at him as he bent down and swooped the staff along the floor, knocking most of the attackers down.
Our poor cow, at this point, had gotten up and was leaving the barn with a final, impatient:
“MOOOO!”
Two attackers were still standing, unfortunately they still owned swords, and as they lunged at him he barely had enough time to block the first, bringing his staff upwards and clashing with the sword, the second, however, bent down and thrust forward. There was no chance of blocking this one, and it hit it's target. There was the flash of pain in his left shoulder. It felt as though his flesh had been seared. It took him a few seconds to realise the scream he had just heard was his own. A few of the guards he had knocked down had got back to their feet and collected their swords.

‘I shouldn't have played with them. I should've just ended this as soon at they found me.’ he told himself, but there was time for feeling sorry for himself later. Now he had a fight to win.
The sword in his left shoulder felt strange as the man who wielding it pulled it out with a smirk. The soldier was about to strike again, in a more vital place, when he pushed his staff upwards and outwards, expelling the sword from the guard who was bearing down upon him and whacking the wrist of the man who had stabbed him. He heard the crack that he'd been hoping for and the cue for his win. He held his staff in front of him and tapped the ground, as he did earlier, this time blowing at the back of the bird that sat atop its head. The bird seemed to amplify the power of his breath. A wind began to blow towards the soldiers, getting stronger and stronger every second until the Royal guard were all blown from the barn. Our hero tapped his staff to the ground twice and the wind died out. He ran out of the barn and saw the bodies of the men he'd just faced strewn around the field. But more would be on their way. There was no other choice. He twirled his staff in a circle and pointed it upwards, and to the left. He began to leave the ground, travelling in the direction his staff was pointing in. He gripped the staff with both hands and shot over the tops of the small town he had been hiding in. He could see the Royal guard below, still oblivious to the fact that their ‘criminal’ had escaped them.

He couldn't stay in the air for very long. Flying used up too much energy. He needed to find somewhere to stay, and fast. He was now travelling over vast countryside. Where, a second ago, there had been farms and villages, there now were fields of wild animals and woodland. He began to think that it was a good idea to stop at the next village he came to, where he could get a room in the local inn. He could afford to do it now and again, and he wasn't going to sleep outside in the cold and get his new wound infected. But then, the unexpected happened.
WHAM!
He was tumbling through the skies. The sounds of two people screaming could be heard. One was himself, the other was, obviously, the cause of this catastrophe. They hit the ground hard and tumbled over each other rolling down the hill they had landed on. They were lucky that they were flying so low down, otherwise they wouldn't have made it. They untangled themselves from each other. And brushed themselves down. The mystery person was a boy around his own age who was glaring at him.
“Watch where you're flying, you maniac!” cried the boy, obviously quite disgruntled at the crash. “What do you think you're doing? I'll bet you don't even have a LICENCE!”
Several cows around them had awoken with a start.
“MOO!” they called out at them, feeling rather annoyed at the humans that had dropped from the sky.
“Oh... not this again...”