Song of A Northern Sorcerer

Kneeling next to the now unconscious boy, Nox carefully turned the child over so that he could examine him properly. 'Small cut on the throat, not critical. Clearly exhausted with how quickly he passed out. I didn't even need to put much into the persuasion to put him under.' Turning to where the arrow had penetrated his calf, he gently probed at the flesh around the wound. 'The arrowhead has nicked the bone. It's going to take quite a bit to heal him. But he's young…and strong in the Force. Very strong. Strong enough that his mere presence tells me that we are no longer in Imperial or Republic space. There is no way the Sith nor the Jedi would allow such a promising young individual to pass them by if he was within their domain of control. Even if he does come from a backwater planet with no discernable technology to speak off.'

It'd been three days since Nox had landed on this technology forsaken rock. Or rather crashed. He knew that he didn't have the fuel for a proper landing, so he'd planned on setting down into the ocean near the coastline and then swimming to shore. But that didn't happen. Entry into this planet's atmosphere didn't go like he'd hoped. With no navigational computer to speak of, he had to do the entry by line of sight. By the time he was fully committed, he was too far off course to make the coast. So, with aid of the Force, and no small amount of luck, he managed to locate a small lake in the middle of forest. It'd then taken him nearly everything he had, but he'd managed to use the Force to not only align his ship, but to also slow himself enough so that when he did hit the lake's surface, his ship didn't fold like a deck of cards on him.

After extracting himself from his now-ruined fighter and the small lake he'd crashed into, began to assess his situation. He had no way of communicating with the greater galaxy, no ship and he was apparently marooned on a pre-industrial world with only a single emergency survival bag and the few items on his person to his name. The survival bag wasn't promising either. Apparently whatever pilot was responsible for that long-range fighter had neglected his preparations duties as the bag contained less than half of the supplies that it should have. Deciding to make use of the excess space, he placed the dozen lightsabers he'd managed to collect from the foreign attackers as well as the fallen Sith and Jedi from Darth Marr's ship.

Deciding that he needed to know more, much more, he knelt next to the water's edge and went into a deep meditative trance for two reasons. The first was that he wanted to see if there was any sign of Republic or Imperial forces, which there wasn't. And second, to try and learn as much about this new world as he could. Which unfortunately, even after spending days in his trance, wasn't much. As far as he could tell, this world was pre-industrial world. But just as he'd sensed out in space, the Force was very strong on this world. He could distinctly feel several dark side presences scattered across the world. However, none seemed to belong to a single individual. It was more like each presence was a collective. A collective that he intended to investigate as soon as he was able to do so.

He'd fully intended on delving deeper into his trance to try and discern more, but his concentration had been broken by a disturbance in the Force. A cry for help. It was mere curiosity more than a sense of duty that led him to follow the disturbance. But now that he'd located exactly what the origins of the disturbance of the Force was. He was glad that he did. It wasn't every day that a Darth could find such a promising, uncompromised individual to potentially train. But first, he needed to see to healing the boy proper.

"And that is where you come in, my unfortunate friend," he said, turning around slowly and making his way over to the large man that seemed to have been the leader of this poor assortment of Free Folk, or Wildlings as they were also known.

Said Free Folk was currently trying to push himself up off the ground, but his broken back as well as five broken ribs, courtesy of his impact with the tree, was preventing him from doing so. "Fuck…you…fuckin…kneeler!"

Tsking, Nox made his way over to the fallen Free Folk and knelt down before him. "You surely do like that word don't you? Fucking. Your friend, Tummer, was it? Yes, he liked that word as well. He kept screaming it at me, even as I was syphoning what little I could from his mind. He wasn't a very bright individual, so, luckily for him, it didn't take very long. It is a very painful process, after all. And a weak mind will fold, break and become useless rather quickly. But he did manage to last long enough for me to gather some bits of information. Including your recent actions. And after what you lot did just a week ago…I can honestly say that I'm sorry I didn't prolong his suffering."

Unfortunately, that was the truth of the matter. The first individual he'd come across in his search for the disturbance had yelled something at him and charged at him with a spear. It was almost child's play to take the spear away and the break his knee and arm. The syphoning of one's mind was a very dark technique, but it was one that had fallen out of favor due to its habit of breaking the mind of the victim, making it useless for interrogation purposes. But it was very useful if, say, you were on an uncharted world and needed to get a basic understanding of the local language and geography.

The wilding he'd come across had only lasted a few moments before his mind broke, leaving him a drooling husk of a human. But in that time Nox was able to not only get a feel for the language, which allowed him to speak somewhat to the locals, but it also let him know that he was in a land called 'the North', unoriginal. And that his victim belongs to a group of people known as 'Free Folk' or 'Wildlings' who came from beyond something called 'The Wall' even further to the north. He also saw just what they had done to a small farmstead a few days prior. It wasn't the worst thing Nox had ever heard or even seen happen. But still, even though he was Sith, such actions filled him with disgust.

"But you, you, my large friend," he continued, enjoying watching the big man flail about as he tried in vain to get away from him. "You will not be so lucky. You see, it just so happens that I need you for two reasons. One, is to help heal that young man over there. And the second is to try and learn more about this land."

The Free Folk glared up at him with utter hatred, a look Nox had grown accustomed too over the years. "Fuck you! I ain't helpin a fuckin kneeler!"

Smirking behind his mask, Nox stood up and rolled his neck, "Unfortunately for you, your cooperation in this matter isn't required." Holding out his hand, Nox channeled his power into his outstretched palm, creating a miasma of dark side energy that flowed around his hand and arm. "Ashara would…not fully approve of this. But unfortunately for you, my light was taken from me some time ago. And given what you lot did to those unable to defend themselves…well, let's just say I'm not feeling very charitable at the moment."

Lowering his hand, the miasma flowed out from his hand and encased the wildling in its dark grasp. Almost immediately the man started screaming in agony as Nox began two-fold process of draining his life force to give to the boy so he could heal, and to also syphon what he could from the man's mind.

"Do try not to scream too loud," he said casually, pulling more and more from the withering man. "The boy over there needs his rest, after all. And it'd be terribly impolite of you to wake him with your wailing."

Kneeling on the ground, Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, carefully inspected the small footprint that was inlaid in a small muddy patch before him. The cool air of the North froze his breath as it escaped his lungs. A stark reminder that while winter may have officially ended by the standards of the Maesters, the cold never truly left the North. 'And another reminder as to why we need to find Jon quickly. He is of the North, but even the sturdiest of men can meet their end in a spring chill.'

"My lord, have you found something?" Jory Cassel, nephew to Ser Rodrik Cassel and recently assigned Captain of the Winterfell guard, asked as he knelt next to Eddard in order to examine what he'd found.

"Aye," Eddard nodded, lightly touching at the single foot impression. "This track was not made by any animal nor a full grown man, it's far too small. No, this track belongs to a boy."

Jory licked his lips as he nodded with the assessment. "Jon," Jory stated, giving words to Eddard's thoughts. "The track looks fresh, my lord. Less than a day old…maybe half a day at best. We're closing in on him."

"Aye." Eddard nodded, rising to his feet and staring off in the direction the single track was heading towards. A direction that would lead them even further into the depths of the unmarked wolfswood.

"He's still alive, my lord," Jory stated, stepping up beside him. "We'll find him my lord, I swear it."

Nodding, Eddard stayed silent as he stared off into the depths of the woods while Jory went back to gather the men. The well of despair that'd been growing within him ever since he'd discovered Jon's disappearance grew even more despite the evidence of Jon's continued survival. 'This is my fault.' He thought to himself morosely as he made his way back to where Jory was giving out orders to the two dozen house guards that'd accompanied the two on the search. 'I should've been paying more attention to Jon. I know that recently he has started to feel unworthy of being in Winterfell. No thanks to that bloody Septa and her abrupt and cruel explanation of just what a bastard, and by extent what Jon was in the eyes of the South. I should've realized that Jon was looking to prove that he wasn't just bastard, that he wanted to prove himself. And that this mysterious 'falling star' of his was the perfect opportunity to do just that.'

But it wasn't just his failing to recognize Jon's need to prove his worth that had brought him into such a well of despair. No, what'd truly brought him so low was the fact that it'd taken him and those within his own house nearly a full day to discover that Jon was in fact missing in the first place! After Jon had failed to show up for dinner, Ned had sent a servant to fetch him, figuring that he'd spent the day in his chambers, but when the servant reported back that Jon wasn't there and that no one had seen him all day, Ned felt lower than even that day in the Tower when he first held Jon in his arms.

Ned had immediately called for a search party to head out and search for Jon. Cat had tried to talk him out of leading the search himself, but he would hear none of it. Her attitude towards Jon had always been a sore point in their otherwise decent marriage. And for not the first time, Ned seriously considered telling her the truth of the matter. But, as always, the words died on his tongue before he could give them voice. 'I have to protect him. I swore to her that I would. And his best shield is his anonymity. The fewer that know the truth, the better. No good will come of it should people learn just who he truly is.'

Robb, unsurprisingly, had wanted to go with them. He'd even been sitting on a horse waiting for them while pointedly ignoring his mother's orders to get down. Jon and Robb, much to Ned's joy, were true siblings, even if they were secret cousins. They played together, learned together, fought together. Just about every first the two boys had experienced in their young lives had been in the presence of the other. Their bond was strong…despite even Cat's attempts to separate the two. It'd taken Ned nearly an hour to convince Robb that he needed to stay behind, that he was still young and that they would be moving too fast for him to keep up with. And that he needed Robb to stay and be the Lord or Winterfell while he was away. Robb hadn't been happy about being left behind, but in the end his son's budding sense of duty won out and he was left behind.

Figuring out where Jon had set off too had been easy. He'd talked for nearly a full day about the fallen star that landed in the wolfswood. But that was merely the start. Finding a single boy in the ancient and dense forest was the true challenge. They'd had to abandon their horses after the first day when the evidence pointed to Jon leaving the trail and heading deeper into the woods than any had ventured before. And now, two days later, they had still yet to find Jon.

'He's out of food by now,' Ned thought as he watched his guards spread out so that dozen or more paces separated each of them in order to cover as much space as possible but allowing them to keep track of one another. 'And unless he's found a new source of water, he will be out of that as well. We need to find him, soon.'

Falling into step with the rest of his men, Ned kept a constant vigilance on the trees around him searching for any sign of Jon. "How much further do you think he could've gone?" Jory asked him as they continued searching. "You Starks are made of sturdily stuff, my lord. But Jon, he's but a boy of six. To think that he could've gotten this far out on his own with little supplies…it doesn't make much sense. Even a fully-grown man would be slowing by now. But your son, he just seems to be keeping two steps ahead of us."

Jory wasn't wrong. Ned had expected to be able to catch up with Jon within half a day, a day at most once they'd set out. But now they were three days in and seemingly no closer to catching up to Jon than the day they'd set out. If Ned wasn't so frightened and worried, he would've been proud of the pace that his 'bastard' son had set.

Nearly half a day passed before they found their next sighting. Ned had been ready to call for a halt when one of his men had called out to him. "Lord Stark! We've found something!"

Desperate for any sign of Jon, Ned had all but run over to the guardsmen, leaving Jory and the others struggling to catch up to him. 'Please be Jon. Please gods of the North, let him be alright.' Unfortunately, his prayers fell on deaf ears as he arrived at the guardsmen who'd called for him. A small camp, unorganized and scattered, lay in a small clearing. Two of Stark guardsmen that'd been closest were inspecting the makeshift tents while a third was holding his bare hand over the remnants of a fire. "The embers are still warm, Lord Stark." The guardsmen explained the moment he laid eyes on Eddard.

Nodding, Eddard looked around the makeshift camp with a critical eye. The smallfolk wouldn't dare venture so far into the wolfswood to make camp. Nor would any bannerman of the North. The threat of wildlife was far too dangerous to venture too far from the road. Which meant that whoever made this camp didn't want to be near the road. Which left two options. Neither of which were appealing. "Spread out." Ned ordered, making his way over to the still warm embers. "Look for tracks. Someone abandoned this camp in a hurry, and I want to know where they went."

"Yes mi'lord!" his guardsmen shouted before dispersing and searching the nearby area for any sign of tracks.

"My Lord," Jory said lowly as he came up beside Eddard. "There are only two types of folk who'd set up camp so far from the road. Bandits and-"

"Wildlings." Eddard finished for his captain. "I am well aware of that fact, Jory."

He could hear the hesitation in his captain's voice as he continued. "My lord, if they spotted Jon before us—"

"I know," Eddard nearly snapped. 'Promise me, Ned.' "But I won't allow myself to think about that situation. My son is alive, Jory. I know it."

"Mi'lord!" One of his guardsmen shouted, bringing an end to their conversation. "Tracks heading west mi'lord! One small and at least six others as well! They look to be moving fast!"

A single shared look with his captain of the guard was all that was needed as Jory drew his sword. "To arms, men! We'll track these fuckers down who dare to hunt a wolf!"

As his men drew their weapons and voiced their approval, Ned continued to stare blankly into the depths of the forest. The wind through the trees and the sound of the animals who made the forest their home died into nothing as the voice of his long-lost sister rang through his head like a mantra. 'Promise me, Ned. Promise me, Ned.'

Sitting on the stump of a fallen tree, Darth Nox, Dark Lord of the Sith, quietly contemplated the situation he now found himself in as he let the soft sound of the small fire he'd created wash over him. Directly across from him, laid out carefully so as to not disturb the freshly healed wounds, was the young boy he'd rescued from the so-called 'wildlings', of 'free folk' as they prefered to be called, less than an hour ago. The boy was powerful in the Force. Completely untrained, but his potential was astronomical. A quick scan of the boy told him that he hadn't ate anything for days, but even still, he'd been able to push himself well past what should've been the normal limits for a child his age. Which meant he'd been unconsciously sustaining himself with the Force. Which was beyond impressive. With the proper training he could become incredibly powerful, perhaps even powerful enough to rival himself one day. So, sticking with the boy wasn't the problem. No, what was the problem was what he was supposed to do now.

He could take the boy and go. But that idea didn't seem logical. For starters, he had no real powerbase on this world. Where would he even take the boy too? No. Simply grabbing the boy and disappearing wasn't an option. But then, what were his options?

Pausing in his musing, he looked over the boy once again through the Force. Even though this world was clearly pre-industrial, and perhaps even pre-gunpowder based projectile weaponry, given the weapons used by the 'wildlings', the boy was actually well groomed. His teeth were clean, little dirt even though he'd been in this forest alone for days. And the few calluses on his hands were obviously not caused by manual labor. And unlike the wildlings' mismatched furs, this boy wore tailed clothing that were designed specifically for him. Which meant that the boy had a relatively easy upbringing so far. Which meant he potentially came from a powerful family.

'That could be the solution,' he thought, bringing his hand up to his chin. 'Given the potential era this world seems to be in, the more influential means the better. Rescuing a potential 'Lord's' son could help me make a place in this world in the short term. And once I get my foot in the door, so to speak, I can introduce some more modern concepts towards engineering, science, agriculture, and philosophy. It's not ideal and it will take a good amount of time and patience. But eventually I will be able to build a new powerbase on this world. I might even be able to gather a few promising acolytes. Yes. That is the best course of action.'

Feeling a slight tremor in the Force, Nox reached out with his senses. 'Well, this is just convenient,' he thought, his lips upturning underneath his mask. 'Over a dozen men are closing in on us. And one of them…he has a…familial connection with the boy. Not direct. But there is definitely a connection there. Good. I can use that. Well, I guess that it's time to play the game once more.'