Meteor

Joran stood at attention, sword raised in his left hand above his head, his sideways stance was on purpose providing less of a target to his opponent across the ring of dirt. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he breathed heavily from the exertion. The glaring sun, about to reach its zenith, added to the heat of the moment. Across the training ground, dressed in a loose shirt and bright blue breeches, stood Kyro, clearly the elder by quite a few years. Kyro stood crouched low in what he called the saddle position, with one fist against his hip and the other palm up extended towards the young lord. Having come to the village of Glenwood close to ten years ago, Kyro claimed to be trained in the arts of Hayu'din, a fighting style that used hands and feet with great efficiency, an art not known nor practiced in any of the provinces of Felgar. Lord Ornsfeld had assigned him to his youngest son soon after hiring him, believing that he would counterbalance the young man's inability to bear a shield in his right arm. Joran had been born crippled, with a short stump in place of a right arm. This however did not entirely seem to diminish his ability to handle a sword in his left arm. Indeed he had worked hard to develop his speed so as to compensate for the lack of strength his elder brothers seemed to all be endowed with. At the moment he stood poised and ready to receive the offensive from the middle aged monk.

As Kyro began an acrobatic tumble across the ring, Joran slightly shifted his position so as to expose as little of his body as possible. A sudden shadow passing in the dirt, drew his eyes away for a split second allowing Kyro to bring up his foot in a rounding arc with lightning speed. Before he knew it the young man was on his back with his head spinning.

Kyro ended his cartwheel and stood over the defeated young man with a frown on his dark skinned face.

He spoke in a calm voice, as if he hadn't just exerted himself, "My lord, you must maintain your focus, even when there are distractions around you."

Joran began to regain his composure when something in the sky caught his eye. What seemed like a orange ball of flames the size of a large bonfire was streaking across the heavens, approaching at a velocity that could only be construed as alarming. As he began to rise, eyes riveted on the flying fire, he heard the gradually intensifying roar of thunder. The roar reached its crescendo when the thing flew directly overhead. As he tried covering his ears from the sound, the ground shook violently. The ball of fire had somehow plummeted right in the village, creating a massive shower of dust and debris.

Joran came to his sense and shouted, "The lesson's over master Kyro. Time to go find out what just happened."

He wasted no time in rushing over to the stables to grab a horse, and was off galloping towards the epicenter of the conflagration. Suddenly remembering Karline mentioning something about the Hengler girl having a fever and that she needed to drop off some herbs there today, he redoubled his efforts.

Wondering how Kyro could have gotten there before he did, Joran noticed a huge crater in the fields west of the Hengler farm. Glancing over towards the farm, he realized the west wall had somehow imploded, making the entire structure lean precariously. Through the haze he could make out five figures in front of the farm. All were covered in dust from head to toe. Three small children stood clutching their mother's chalky apron, while a tall man stood next to her clutching a small figure against his chest.