Trees surrounded him of every type, the leaves a dark brown. His soft leather boots stepped on baren ground where grass once grew. The summer was brutal this year, yet he felt unaffected. The island of Quaim was unusually quiet, and he was happy about it. He didn't like that it was too excited. That usually meant trouble. Brushing a few strands of dark brown hair, he let his cool brown eyes scan the terrain. He found no one. Walking faster, his lightly tan skin touching some sunlight, he ducked into a ball and rolled. Moving to his knees he looked about. Men and women from his village were after him for being a channeler. Something that surely surprised him.
His mind went back to the day it happened. He had been daydreaming about being a Warder at one of the Towers one day when his mind went blank. All he remembered was a fire igniting a horse. Since that moment, the surrounding villagers chased him out. Chased him away from this childhood where he grew up. His life was this small village on Quaim, with his farmer parents. This was all he knew. Now, at eighteen naming days, he was on the run from his own people. He thought it ludicrous. But here he was running, a sickness slowly taking him. It puzzled him that such a sickness would take him so quickly and disappear and return again. Shaking his head he ducked lower, his usual six foot height, something he wished he did not have.
He believed his troubles came from the woman who visited the village. She had a face that he could not put an age to. She had complimented on his rugged looks, and his quick wit. It was as if she was analyzing him that day they met at the local inn, talking over an ale. Telling how nice it was to have such a bright person, who learned quick, and loved people. How she knew that, he did not know. All he knew was that his troubles began with that woman. Seeing her, and finding interest in her. Luckily he had no one he was pursuing, but now, he wished he had never seen that woman.
Running through the small foliage he appeared at the docks. A ship was lowering it's sail, causing him to sprint. The sickness was taking his stomach, causing him to feel dizzy, but he continued on. Manus Celer Dei was a determined man who needed to reach that boat leading to the mainland. He felt his head go blank again, the familiar sweet and sickening feeling engulfing his mind as he ran toward the boat. It stopped. Manus smiled. It stopped.
Running up the dock he jumped for the boat and landed on his feet. As if his landing was a signal the boat moved again, the sails picking up wind. The captain looked at him with amazement and asked his destination. All Manus said was the mainland.
~~later~~
The sunlight burned at an angle between the towering buildings that named his destination. He knew he had to be here, he knew this was where he needed to be. His dust covered clothing was all he had in belongings, his menial chores and hand to hand combat the only thing keeping him alive. And here he stood before a Tower of black stone. Breathing deeply he walked towards the large wooden gates that marked the entrance. The air had grown cold as he moved towards the massive building, the pull of his destiny naming this Tower, his new life.