Book 1: The Return of the Kovz King
Book 2: The Guardians of Kovzland
Book 3: The Quest for Eric
Book 4: On His Majesty's Mission
Book 5: The Prince of Kovzland

Chapter One

As a rule, it's logical to assume that an eleven year old boy waking up alone on a cold town street is likely to be both afraid and uncomfortable. If you add to that the fact that I had no memory of how I got there or how I happened to be dressed in rags, it's easy to see that I was more than a little bit trou- bled.

It wasn't just how I had gotten to be on the street so early in the morning that I had forgotten, but everything. I lay there in the gutter in some alley, the blackened walls of two tall buildings rising to either side of me, and tried to figure out what I could remember. I knew how to speak, that seemed clear, and how to think. Passed that I couldn't remember anything. For a long while I thought that I had just been born, but if that were the case then I would hardly be able to speak, would I? Still, I had no memory of parents, no memories of a home, no memories of how I even got in the run down alley I found myself in. There was a leather knapsack beside me and I couldn't remem- ber what was in it or if it even belonged to me, couldn't remem- ber my name or if I had one, couldn't remember what I looked like.

Feeling hungry, I tore into the bundle but I found nothing to eat. The only things in it were a handful of white, silk towels and a golden lamp that I couldn't open. I tried to look down its spout, but I saw only blackness. A pleasant smell came from it, but nothing came out when I shook it up and down. I sighed hope- lessly and returned the items to the pack. I wondered if I'd stolen them: they didn't look like the kinds of things a boy in my condition could afford to own. At any rate, I couldn't eat them and that was what was on my mind at the moment.

It wasn't even dawn yet, though the fact that the sky was getting lighter made it clear that dawn would not be far off. Through the tops of the buildings I could see that the day would be clear (and hopefully sunny and warm for my small bones seemed frozen stiff). Tentatively, I reached out my arms and immediate- ly felt the cold morning air rush in a dozen rips and tears in my shirt, if shirt you called it. It would be more accurate to call it a cape for it had obviously once belonged to a much larger person and hung on my skinny body very loosely. It stank of the garbage from the alley but I was certainly warmer than I would have been if my skin was bared to the chill morning air. I could tell that my upper body was in fairly decent shape: my skinny arms weren't scratched in the slightest and moving them ached only because I had grown so chill overnight in the alley.

Sighing, I put my hands down on the cobblestone street I was sitting on and pushed myself to my feet. I was wearing a pair of ragged pants, again awkwardly tailored from a much larger pair. They were so ragged that they ended mid-way down my calves and I could see the pale skin of my legs before they disappeared into a pair of well-worn leather boots. If they were my size then I was a boy with very big feet. I could tell by wiggling my toes that there was a lot of empty space in the boots and that there were holes in the bottoms of them. Again, however, they were better than being bare and I didn't lament their condition very much.

My legs, though equally sore from the cold, seemed to work just fine and I seemed to be in good condition. I was dressed in rags and there was a gnawing hunger in my tummy, but I was otherwise just fine.

I looked around me, silently taking in the condition of the alley. There were some huddled forms of other people in rags lying curled up in the corners. Perhaps they were dead. They didn't move. I was instinctively afraid of them and made certain that I remained very quiet. Otherwise, there were many trash cans, crates and empty pallets. Garbage was strewn everywhere, mostly scattered papers but there was also rotting food, smelling unhappily like my clothes. One end of the alley ended in a high wooden fence, aged and weathered a hopeless gray. The other apparently opened on a street. I tried to improve my appearance by adjusting the rags about my body, then picked up my bundle and headed for the open end.

There was a street there, cobblestones like the alley, lined with two and three story buildings all of which looked totally uninviting and closed. There were a few piles of horse dung in the road and I thought about the tall, sleek horses that must have left them. I loved horses even though I had no memory of actually seeing one. I did know what they looked like, however, enough to recognize their droppings in the street.

I didn't feel surprised by anything I saw. Rather than having any expectations, I simply logged the sights away. There were very few people around and those who were all pushed carts or carried crates toward the west. I hitched my pack up on my back and stepped farther out of the alley, trying to see where they were going. A carriage driven by two horses was coming from the other way and I turned and watched as it went past. The brown animals leading it didn't look very happy. I wanted to go up and pet them, but I knew the man would be angry with me. He already looked upset and in a hurry. Grown-ups always looked like that, I knew. I rose on my tip toes trying to see where everybody was going, though standing on my toes gave me no better view.

The street seemed to open up a few blocks to the west and I felt certain that there must be a public square there or someth- ing. If there was a square, it would have food and I would have to go down there if I was to find anything to eat. I looked down at my clothing again and was surprised to discover that there was a small gold medallion lying against my pale white little chest, hanging from a thin, gold necklace. I held it up to my eyes and looked at it closely. The medallion was about an inch around with an engraving of two naked boys standing on a hilltop and gazing at a sunrise. They were facing away, the taller, older boy's arm draped across the smaller boy's thin shoulders. The engraving was very intricate, down to the smooth, round contours of their bottoms and the crack separating their young cheeks. I could even see their shoulder blades rippling against their skin.

It seemed like an odd engraving for a boy to have on a neck- lace, but I liked it and it seemed important to me. I turned it over and on the back it had "Kelvin Protect Us" inscribed on the smooth plate of gold. Maybe Kelvin was my name. Maybe it held some clue about who my parents were and I could find out who I was through it? At any rate, I didn't want to lose it, and I tucked it into my shirt and buttoned the rags up as far as they would go. A good portion of my little chest was still bare through the top button, but the necklace was hidden and I trusted that no thieves would see it and take it from me.

A second startling discovery hit me when I found that I was also wearing a gold ring. It too had engravings on it, but I couldn't read them and shrugged. I was pretty sure I knew how to read, but the letters seemed to be foreign and unrecognizable. Perhaps I might have to sell the ring to get some money for food. Maybe I'd have to sell the lamp and the silk, too. I didn't know. I wasn't going to sell the necklace, however. Just the feel of the dainty chain wrapped around my thin neck felt com- forting and I suspected that it held some clue to my identity. However hungry I got, I determined not to sell it. Shrugging my thoughts away boyishly, I started toward the apparent opening ahead.

The air was getting warmer as I walked, my joints loosening and feeling better. I felt oddly happy, though I had no apparent reason for being so: I was dressed in rags, I was hungry and I knew no one, including myself. Still, I was young and free and ready to face whatever came my way. Mostly I was delighted to be walking along the street and seeing so many new things. The world was big and glorious and I wanted to see all of it. My feet, feeling very tender, scraped against the cobblestones through the holes in my boots, but even that couldn't dull my boyish excitement.

A few blocks from the alley, the road ended in a huge square as I'd expected it to. Already a hundred merchants were scurry- ing about and readying stalls. They carried or dragged crates and pallets of fresh vegetables and fruits, fish and meats, many of them accompanied by burden laden boys not much older than me. These boys looked about as ragged as I did and I wondered if maybe all boys dressed in rags. The grown ups with them were dressed a little better, but didn't seem to like the dirty boys. I saw several boys being slapped and ordered about harshly. They didn't look as happy as I felt, but they didn't cry and none of them objected......(cont)