The Prophecy

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  Chapter 6 – Journal

  Sarah awoke to the sounds of a crackling fire and the aroma of cooking food. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious! Wait a minute. Cooking? Here? Steve?? Both eyes shot open. There, spitted on a makeshift rotisserie over the fire, was a roasting fish. A rypo, Sarah corrected. Where the in the world did he get that? Better yet, where the hell was Steve?

  She wandered over to the fire and rotated the fish so that it was cooking evenly. Baffled, she inspected the rypo. It was just now starting to blister, so her husband couldn’t have been gone for more than a minute or two. Where did he get this? Back at the lake? That would be at least an hour’s walk!

  Steve arrived just then with a few more pieces of wood for the fire.

  “Mornin’! How’d you sleep?”

  “Amazingly well. I was really tired.” Sarah turned the fish again. “Where did you get this? You must have caught it. Where? How??”

  “It was an incredible bit of luck. I went back a bit to that small stream we passed last night. I wanted to get some more water. Thought it’d be a good idea before we started out again. This thing apparently made a wrong turn somewhere and was caught in a shallow part and was struggling to get back. Personally, I’m tired of fruitcake, so I thought some fresh fish would be good for breakfast.”

  Sarah just stared at her husband, senior computer tech, video game junkie, movie fanatic. He really didn’t care for fish, didn’t like to fish, and didn’t even know how to clean a fish.

  “So you caught this with your bare hands?”

  Steve grinned. “Yep. Hard as hell.”

  “And you cleaned it yourself.”

  “Disgusting as hell.”

  “And you built this rotisserie thing to cook it.”

  “Ingenious as hell.”

  “But you hate fish. I can’t even imagine you cleaning this thing.”

  “Stubborn as hell.”

  They breakfasted on roast rypo and fresh, cool water. It was quite excellent. Steve didn’t even bother to trim the excess fat from his portion of fish, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Sarah.

  Together, they stowed their gear back into their pack, throwing the used palm fronds into a clump of bushes. She looked at the fire, still blazing away.

  “Can you put that out? Or should we just put some dirt on it to make sure all the coals go out, too?”

  “Hang on, let me see what I can do.” Steve concentrated, invoking his jhorun and directing it towards the fire. Focusing his attention on the flickering flames and the hot coals, he mentally pulled the fire’s energy inward, letting it consume him. The flames decreased in size until finally tapering out. The coals, glowing red from the constant heat, gradually darkened until no signs of warmth remained. Steve gingerly held his hand over the hearth, testing for signs of heat. Nothing. Smiling, Steve looked at his wife. Sarah, however, had her trademark skeptical look plastered on her face: one eyebrow raised in a true, Vulcan fashion.

  “What?”

  “How are you going to tell if that’s warm when you can actually hold fire in your hand and not get burned?”

  Steve’s smug smile melted into a sheepish one. “Okay, you try. See if there’s any heat. I don’t feel anything.”

  Sarah held an open palm out to the fire. Nothing.

  “I think we’re ready to go. Nicely done, by the way.”

  Steve’s smug grin was back. “Thanks!”

  Travelling north, they again followed the small, winding path through the thick growth of the forest. Their moods were high as each contemplated the special power that had been quite literally dropped in their laps. Steve, more confident than he had been since arriving in Lentari, was on constant alert for any signs of pursuit. His eyes were continuously scanning the distant trees, checking for any signs of pursuit.

  After two hours of solid walking they finally emerged from the forest to a very welcoming sight: the impressive Zylan river stretching from east to west as far as the eye could see. And there, running parallel to the mighty river was the enchanted road they had been so desperately searching for.

  “Oh, score!!!” Steve let out a loud whoop of victory. “Is THAT a sight for sore eyes!”

  Sarah sighed, relief flooding through her system, soothing her more than a glass of iced tea could ever do, and boy was she craving a glass of tea. Shading her eyes from the sun, she scanned up and down the road, looking for any forks that might have led them astray. Nothing.

  This was indeed a good sign. Now that the road was again in sight, she wanted nothing more than to be standing square in the middle of it. She grabbed her husband’s hand and pulled him behind her, practically breaking out in a run in order to get to the safety-enhanced road as soon as possible. Once on it, she finally released his hand and turned to face him.

  “Are you okay?” Steve could only imagine how relieved his wife must be to be back on the path. He hadn’t registered one word of complaint as he was dragged along behind his wife during her urgent dash to the enchanted road.

  “Just very glad to be right here. Very, very glad.” She sighed again.

  “Tell you what, the way I see it, that village Kornal spoke of should be close. Let’s see if we can find a place to stay for the night.”

  “And how do we pay for it?”

  “We have the grif.”

  “What if it’s not enough?”

  “Then we’ll figure something out. Come on.” It was his turn to take her hand and pull her down the road.

  In high spirits, the two visitors journeyed east, adopting a hurried pace. Steve glanced up, noting the position of the sun. It was directly overhead, placing the time somewhere around noon. If they kept due east at a respectable pace, then he figured they should be able to reach the village of Donlari just before sunset. He had every intention of procuring a room for the night with a bed and decent provisions. And, he was fairly confident that his single gold grif would be more than adequate to cover the cost of the room plus the supplies.

  Walking silently hand-in-hand, both observed the immense slow-moving river. They could just make out a boat of some sort with what looked like cargo and supplies on it, gently drifting downriver.

  The Zylan river, running parallel to the road they were on, was the main method of transportation for the Lentarian people when it came to moving supplies from the western region of the kingdom to the east. Citizens used the wide, calm river to transport crops, manufactured goods, livestock, etc, to the main capital city, R’Tal.

  Steve looked at the smooth, glass-like texture of the river and wondered if they might be able to make a raft of some sort so they wouldn’t have to walk. He rapidly nixed that idea. The river simply wasn’t flowing that fast. Besides, he wouldn’t trust any raft he was capable of making to be seaworthy.

  True to his earlier estimate, just as the sun was about to dip below the horizon, two weary Americans beheld the village of Donlari as it was preparing to settle down for the night. Not wasting any time, Steve walked straight over to the first person he saw, a local who was busy packing his wares into his cart.

  Steve cleared his throat. “Pardon me, can you tell me where we can find the nearest inn?”

  The merchant glanced up, noticing a potential sale. “Good evening, travelers! What might I be able to do for ye? Have ye an interest in fine crockery?” He hastily pulled a few choice pots from his cart and proffered them to Sarah. “Ye will not find a finer made pot in these parts, let me assure ye.”

  Steve gave his best amiable smile. “Not today, thanks. Can you point us to the closest inn? Is there one in this village?”

  The merchant noted the strange affliction to the way they spoke, but he had heard far stranger. Nodding, he pointed towards a street still packed with people. “Ye will find several here in this village. The closest is just down that alley. Follow the alley until it dead-ends, then turn right. Ye cannot
miss it. Thacken Lodge. Ye will do no better in Donlari.”

  “Thank you.”

  The merchant nodded, dragging his cart away, disappearing into the crowds of people. Steve shifted the pack to his other shoulder to give his aching right shoulder a break.

  “Come on,” Steve took her hand. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be caught out here when it gets dark.”

  Thacken Lodge was a large, three story stone and mortar structure with several chimneys poking out of the top of the thickly thatched roof. Dark smoke was billowing out of one of the chimneys as cheerful lights and music beckoned to the two of them from the open double doors. Giving Sarah a brave smile, he ducked into the inn, his wife following closely on his heels. Navigating around the bustling patrons, Steve glanced around, noticing the huge vaulted ceiling with the exposed rafters, the roaring fire in the huge hearth, and running along the entire length of the far wall, a large wooden counter. The medieval equivalent of a bar? Several patrons were seated at various spots along the counter. Figuring the large man behind the bar to be the owner, he headed in that direction.

  Sarah blinked her eyes, waiting for them to adjust. The atmosphere felt warm and welcoming to her, albeit a tad on the dirty side. There was a crackling fire in the hearth against the far wall. Sounds of banging pots and general laughter came from a room to the right of the roaring fire. The kitchen maybe? Scents of burnt meat wafted lazily about. Numerous scarred tables and benches were scattered across the room. Many were empty, so she reasoned the lodge had to have at least a few vacancies.

  Steve finally made it to the counter and caught the proprietor’s attention. The burly overweight man ambled in his direction, wiping his hands on a worn, greasy apron. “What can I do for ye?”

  “We need provisions, and a room for the night. Do you have any available?”

  The owner of the lodge scratched his beard with a huge hand. “I s’pose ye are one of Rhenyon’s men? Still irks me why I must give away m’ best rooms fer free.”

  “Umm, I’m not with Rhenyon, whoever that is. I just need food and lodging for the night. I can-”

  The owner leaned precariously over the bar, studying Steve intently. He then noticed Sarah behind him, watching closely.

  “Good news, indeed. But can ye pay?”

  “Well,” Steve stammered, “I have a-”

  The owner cut him off. “Can ye perform some type of service in exchange?”

  The rusty wheels upstairs ground into motion. “I can probably help out with cooking. I seem to have the ability to heat things up.” He looked at the large man in front of them and smiled. “Rapidly.”

  The man’s jaw hit the counter. One would have thought that the stranger had just announced that he had slept with his daughter. “Speak ye the truth? Can ye affect large cauldrons or are ye limited to small objects?”

  Now he was in for it. He hadn’t expected the innkeeper to actually entertain his notion of helping in the kitchen. Did they have a shortage of cooks in this tavern? Steve shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “I haven’t noticed any size limitations, if that’s what you’re wondering. Umm, do you actually need some help in the kitchen?”

  Their new friend ran his hands through his thick, black hair.

  “Ye might have heard me before. Rhenyon is the captain of the royal guards. He and most of his men will be staying here tonight and are due to arrive at any moment. The king’s soldiers get free lodging wherever they go, and I have to have enough food ready when they arrive, which I do. But I was given no notice this time, and the food has not yet been prepared. My wife can cook for that many, but it takes time to prepare that much food. So,” he tapped his meaty finger on Steve’s chest, “help my wife get that food ready in time, and the two of ye may stay the night with a meal. We have an accord, yes?”

  Steve’s grin ran from ear to ear. “Deal.” He offered his arm, which was grasped in return. He turned to Sarah. “Can you watch the pack? Seems I have a little cooking to do.” He turned back to the barkeep. “Umm, sir, can my wife sit at one of the tables and wait for me? We’ve been travelling all day. I know she’s tired.”

  “Call me Thack. As for yer wife, not a problem. Better yet…” He whistled shrilly. A small, skinny boy of perhaps ten years darted out from one of the back rooms. “Ellis, take the lady and her things up to a room. See that she has what she needs.”

  The boy took the pack easily on his shoulder and gestured for Sarah to follow.

  “Go on up. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

  “I’ll go up and get us settled. Then I’ll be back. I’ll bet I can help out, too.”

  “Hon, don’t start. Just go up and rest.”

  “Nothing doing. We’re in this together. Besides, I don’t want to be alone up there.”

  Thacken, who had heard the entire argument, shook his head. If another person was willing to help his wife out, no one would catch him arguing.

  “Okay, fine. But try to rest a little, will you? Join me when you can.” He kissed his wife tenderly and watched as she disappeared up the stairs.

  He clapped his hands together. “Okay, show me where I can find the kitchen.”

  Thacken whistled again, loud and shrill. “Bolli, come out here for a moment, will ye?”

  A harassed, middle aged woman wearing a brown apron appeared in one of the doorways.

  “Thack, what is it? I have not the time for these interruptions. There’s much work to be done an’ I don’ see ye doing it!!”

  “This is…” Thacken looked at Steve.

  “My name is Steve.”

  “Steve. He will be assisting ye while ye are cooking for Rhenyon and his men.”

  “A man? In my kitchen? Are ye daft? This is not the time for jokes, Thack.”

  Steve spoke up. “Believe it or not, ma’am, I think I can help you out. I have a knack for making things hot. Really hot really fast.”

  “Do ye now? Unless ye can somehow manage to heat up three cauldrons at the same time, ye would just be in my way.”

  Steve smiled. “As a matter of fact, I believe I can.”

  Bolli’s eyes widened. She studied Steve a moment. “Changed my mind, I have. If ye can do what ye say ye can do, then ye just became our guest of honor. This way, hurry!”

  Bolli guided Steve into the back of the kitchen where three enormous metal pots were sitting against the back wall. Two were full of what looked like stew, and the third was being prepped. She had clearly been interrupted in the middle of finishing the final cauldron.

  “So what can ye do? How do ye plan on heating all three?”

  Steve looked around. “Where can we put these things that won’t be affected by intense heat?”

  Bolli gestured to a section of the wall where a series of metal hooks were protruding from the stone. “Ye can put the pots there. I typically do not prepare this much food at one time, but I had Thack install extra hooks in case I ever needed to.”

  “Will it hold the weight of the cauldron and the food?”

  “Thacken fastened those hooks into solid stone. They are going nowhere, trust me.”

  Grunting and straining, Steve hung two of the full pots on their hooks in the huge hearth. After Bolli finished preparing the third, he (with Bolli’s help) hung it next to the other two.

  Stretching her back, Bolli eyed her assistant. “Now what?”

  Steve gently guided Thacken’s wife away from the enormous metal pots.

  “To make sure I get this right, I’m going to heat just one cauldron first. Keep an eye on the contents. I’ll start increasing the heat, and it’s going to cook. Fast. If it starts getting too hot too fast, let me know, okay? Once it looks good, we’ll start on the other two. Sound good?”

  Growing cautious, Bolli nodded.

  Steve took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly, trying to calm himself. He searched within for his jhorun. It was defi
nitely getting easier to find. The tingles appeared instantly this time, almost eager to do their part. Steve eyed the first pot and ordered it to start getting hot.

  In a matter of moments the aroma of cooking meat instantly filled his nostrils, making him realize just how hungry he was. A slight sizzling sound had also started within the pot. Baffled, Bolli approached her first cauldron and carefully leaned over to peer inside. Being skeptical by nature, she tentatively held a hand over the pot to ascertain the pot’s temp, but had to snatch her hand away lest she be given a burn. She didn’t know how this stranger was doing it, but he was! Her first cauldron was already cooking! She pulled out a large wooden spoon and stirred the contents. Pieces of meat floated to the surface of her stew. She also noticed that a few chunks of meat were beginning to char.

  “Can ye lessen the heat some? The meat has started to burn.”

  Steve nodded, pulling back in some of the heat from the pot. With the temperature now at a comfortable range, she indicated she was ready to get pots two and three going. Steve looked them over. Within seconds, all three pots were glowing a soft red. He was startled to discover that if his attention diverted to anything else, his jhorun receded on its own accord. Slowly, ever so slowly, it started to cool off. Luckily, it was easy to tell when the well-used cauldrons started to fade from red back to black.

  Sarah, following her nose, finally wandered into the kitchen and saw Bolli moving from pot to pot, giving the contents of each pot a thorough stirring. She also noted that all three pots had a warm, soft reddish color on the bottom. From Steve’s jhorun? It had to be. No flames whatsoever! She was impressed!

  Steve glanced over at her and smiled. Instantly, two of the three pots lost their reddish glow. Sarah noticed and gestured for Steve to look. His head whipped around, saw the problem, and restored the proper amount of heat.

  “This is incredible!” Bolli kept saying, going from pot to pot. “Ye will have the entire feast cooked in the time it takes me to make the fire! I can not thank ye enough!”

  Thacken poked his head into the kitchen. “Rhenyon and his troops have arrived. His men have practically filled every table we have. How soon before -” and he saw the three pots hanging in a row over the hearth, no fire present, yet glowing red. Even standing where he was, he could feel the heat emanating from the large pots and smell the enticing aroma of his wife’s cooking. “By the wizards! They are cooking! It smells great! Ye did it! Thank ye, Steve! Ye have saved my wife and I hours of work! Go rest. I’ll send two plates of food up. Ye both look dead tired.”

  “Thank you, Thacken. Bolli, I’m glad I could help.” He gestured to the pots. “Once I leave, they’ll start to cool down. It might take it a bit, but they will start cooling off.”

  “I’ll have proper fires started by then. Thank ye, Steve. I’ll have Thack send up a bottle of our finest wine. Rest well!”

  Following Sarah back out into the great room, he was amazed to discover that practically all the tables were full of soldiers, and more kept streaming in. Giving the weary soldiers a wide berth, Sarah led him to the far stairs where he followed her up.

  Their room was small and homey, with a padded mattress in the corner. The bedding was folded neatly (Bolli’s influence, Sarah presumed) on the corner of the bed. A small fireplace was situated directly across from the divan, with the small window open wide to allow the fresh night air to enter. It also appeared that the window served double duty as the air outtake for the fire, as there were signs of black soot on the window frame and on the glass itself.

  “Want the window open?”

  Sarah nodded. “Yes, please. The air smells so fresh here. No evidence of industrialization. We ought to bottle it and sell it on eBay!” She giggled and looked at the fireplace. “Can you light the fire?”

  “Are you asking me if I can or if I will?”

  “I know you can, silly, I want you to light the fire, please.”

  Steve looked at the fireplace, and within seconds the logs instantly erupted into flames. Warmth flooded into the room, chasing out the cold bite of the night air. Steve leaned up and pulled the windows to within an inch of being closed.

  “If it gets too smoky, let me know. I can open it some more.”

  “Thanks.” Sarah sank down onto the bed and kicked her shoes off. “I don’t think,” she began, “that my feet have ever been this sore. But you know what? I don’t care. I’m actually having a good time!”

  “I’m glad you are.” Steve joined her on the bed. “So what did you think of my culinary abilities down there?”

  “I wanted to ask you about that. What possessed you to volunteer for that? I thought you were going to use that grif to pay for the room?”

  “So did I. Thacken didn’t give me a chance to offer it. His abruptness caught me off guard, and he mistook that hesitation as us not having any means of paying for the room.”

  “So you offered to cook instead? I’m impressed!”

  “You clearly didn’t hear the whole conversation, did you?”

  “I thought I did, but, ummm, clearly I didn’t.” Sarah laughed. “What’d I miss? It was kinda noisy in there.”

  “He wanted to know if I could do any service that would be the equivalent of paying our way. So I said that I could heat things up. Rapidly.”

  Sarah snorted. “That’s the understatement of the century.”

  “You would have thought I just informed him I could turn lead into gold. He told me about those soldiers arriving any moment, and he hadn’t been properly notified, so his poor wife was struggling to get all the food ready.”

  “And you just happened to have the ability they needed to rapidly cook everything.” Sarah nodded. “That’s thinking quickly on your feet. Good job!”

  There was a soft knock on the door. Steve opened it to reveal Ellis, holding a large tray with several steaming bowls of the same dish Steve had helped cook earlier, a round loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and several glasses. Steve took the tray from the boy, thanked him, and sent him on his way.

  “Looks good!” Sarah said. “What’d we get?”

  “Let’s see,” Steve put the tray down by the bed. “We have some bowls of stew, loaf of bread, and some wine. They didn’t send any water, though.” He picked up the bottle and eyed it. The contents swished around as he rotated it, looking for some clue on how it might taste. Unsurprisingly, no label.

  “It’s what we were given. Supposed to be the finest here. Let’s not insult our hosts, okay?”

  Steve sighed, uncorked the bottle, and poured a glass for each of them. It looked to be some type of merlot. He hoped it wasn’t too strong. Gingerly, he took a sip. Mmmm, not bad! He didn’t ever recall red wine tasting like this! The sweet, fruity liquid was light and fragrant, with a light aftertaste of… Steve smacked his lips. What was it? Some type of flower? Spice? Lavender, or maybe rosemary? Whatever it was, he realized he was so grateful to quench his thirst that he didn’t care if it tasted like raw sewage. Eagerly, he gulped more down.

  “Whoa there, bucko,” Sarah cautioned. “Go easy on that stuff. We don’t know what’s in this, and it might be more potent that the wines we are used to. And since you don’t drink wine, I’d just as soon not have a drunk, human flamethrower in the same room. Know what I mean?”

  Steve snorted, spraying flecks of wine onto the piece of bread he was about to take a bite of.

  “Is that what you think of me? A human flame thrower?” Steve paused to let that sink in. That characteristic smug grin of his appeared on his face. “Yeah, I can live with that.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “You’re just a big kid, do you know that?”

  Mouth full of stew, Steve nodded. “With pride!”

  Comfortably sated, Steve pulled the bedding over the mattress and invited Sarah to stretch out alongside him.

  “Let me get something first.” She walk
ed over to the pack, fished around inside for a moment, then pulled out the leather journal.

  Stretching out next to her husband on the bed, she held the journal up questioningly.

  “Whatcha doin’?” Steve noticed the journal. “Are you looking for something?”

  “Remember when we talked briefly about your grandparents? We were curious about what their jhoruns might be. I want to see if it’s mentioned anywhere in here. Do you mind if I read this?”

  “By all means. Help yourself.”

  “Let’s see,” she opened the journal, “here’s the opening inscription, which changed from that foreign language to something we can read. We’ll get into that later. But for now, let’s see what we have.” She skimmed the first couple of pages. “Nothing much, just talking about New Year’s dinner they had, here’s an entry about some old book that Simon,” Sarah looked up questioningly at her husband. “Simon. Just to be clear, that is the name of your grandfather, right?”

  Steve nodded.

  “Apparently he was working on repairing some old book. Doesn’t mention if it was rare, or where it was from.”

  “Find that entry from before, with that Volan person.”

  Sarah started flipping through the pages. “Okay, let’s see. I think it was roughly halfway through, closer to… Ah! Here it is. Volan’s journey. Let’s see, that was an entry for April of 2008. I’ll read the whole entry:

  April 3rd, 2008

  It’s our first day of this visit. The Kri’yans have granted us leave to discover the location of the manuscript. Several years of steady, relentless questioning has apparently finally convinced them to grant us permission to access the Archives.

  On day 3, we uncovered a reference to a distant family member that lived on the sea. What we found incredible was that there were references to a small island off the western coast which was allegedly rumored to resemble a griffin cub in flight. There have been only a few villages that have been along the western sea, and of those, only one remains: Capily. As it happens, there are several small islands nearby. We were very surprised to learn that no one had ever investigated the western coast. So the following day, we journeyed to the coast via their royal highness’ personal marjihn.

  We explored all along the sea from the village’s most northern point to the most southern, all the while keeping the village in our sights. It wasn’t until Grace went to refill her canteen from one of the freshwater streams that she discovered the ruins of a house tucked away in the forest.

  Poking around in the ruins we discovered that the forest had, unfortunately, decimated anything that might have at one time helped us. After a brief search in Capily, we located the town scribe and told him we were on official business.

  “Official business?” Steve interrupted. “Sounds like they were definitely in league with the king and queen, don’t you think?”

  “I do. Let me finish.”

  “Sorry.”

  Lucky for us, the scribe was a very knowledgeable, organized person and had records dating back several hundred years. Spending a day or so in his company helped us learn all we needed to know about that quaint, seaside village. It was only a matter of time before several documents were uncovered that helped us track down the name of the family that had lived in the ruins of that small house and how long it had been vacant.

  The house had belonged to a man named Kahrill. He had married a local girl and moved into her family’s house in the village, thus abandoning his ancestral home. Once again, our new-found friend came to our rescue. The scribe searched his records and identified a great-great-granddaughter that was still living in the same house. Apparently living in the family home from birth to death is a common occurrence in this village. The woman was very cooperative, letting us search through her great-great-grandmother’s things.

  There, sitting inside a dusty, dirty trunk in the cellar of this small, thatched house we finally located the manuscript, there in Capily. I’m anxious to start reading about Volan’s legendary travels, but Grace would like to return. The Nayan is also eager to see the manuscript, and I believe Grace would like to share the discovery with her.

  “I wonder who this Volan person is, then?”

  “Would you stop interrupting! Sheesh!”

  “Sorry.”

  We’ve contacted the Nayan. She’s ecstatic the manuscript has finally been found and we can once and for all read about how the Bakkian was originally discovered. You would think that if this Bakkian is as important as everyone says it is, then more references should exist.

  I’m grateful of the confidence that was placed in Grace and I, yet I can’t help feeling a little worn out. Now that this task has been completed, I’m looking forward to some rest. We’ve earned it. Kri’Entu himself told me that there has never been a more dedicated, diligent set of official biographers than us.

  This being the seventh successful task we’ve accomplished, we’re going to ask for an extended period of time. I know Grace would like to return.

  “’Grace would like to return’? That suggests that he’d much rather stay there than come back.”

  “Seven successful tasks? How long do you think that they have been coming here?”

  Steve scratched his chin. “I wonder how they first got there? I mean, we got here because of them. I wonder how they learned how to get here?”

  “Well, what if those doors were in that house long before your grandparents bought it?”

  “Kinda cold, don’t you think?”

  Sarah paused. “What? What’s cold?”

  “Before they ‘bought it’? Come on, you know the doors were there before they passed away. They had to be using them. It’s a question of how long before their deaths.”

  “Before they bought the house,” Sarah clarified. “I didn’t mean before they bit the big one, but whether those doors were always there. Did your grandparents build that house? That’s the question I’d be asking right about now.”

  “Well, remind me to look it up once we get back.”

  Sarah flipped through the next couple of pages, scanning the entries. Was there anything in here that could help us out? She was about ready to turn the page when a familiar word caught her eye.

  “Jhorun! They talk about jhoruns in this entry!”

  “Let’s hear what it says.”

  Sarah passed him the journal. “Your turn.”

  Steve took the journal and started to read.

  September 25th, 2008

  The castle has finally quieted down. With the journeys of Volan finally disclosed, all anyone can talk about is who, or what, the Nohrin are. Who they are, where they are from, why they have not appeared yet, and most important of all, what their jhoruns might be. I can’t even imagine the jhoruns required to fulfill the Bakkian.

  I’ve seen the levels of the wizards of R’Tal, and it makes mine seem miniscule.

  “Hah! There, did you hear that? They did have jhoruns! I knew it!”

  “Keep reading! I want to hear what they were!”

  And it doesn’t even work all the time. I have to concentrate so hard I give myself headaches, and even then the pen doesn’t write fluidly like it should. The parchment that Grace conjures suffices for our work, but it would have been nice to have something stronger.

  “Question.” Steve said. “Doesn’t that sound like our jhoruns are more powerful?”

  “Well, ordinarily, I wouldn’t say so, but it’s hard to refute that. Your grandfather could make a pen move? Like having it transcribe for them? And your grandmother conjured the paper for him to use?”

  “I’ll say it. Those jhoruns sound pretty wimpy to me.”

  “It sounds convenient. Those two jhoruns go together really well, don’t you think? Keep reading, will you?”

  Steve returned to the journal.

  I really shouldn’t complain. It’s taken thirty years to become trustworthy in the Kri
’yans eyes, and even longer to earn our jhoruns. I’m grateful Shardwyn is a powerful wizard.

  Steve’s jaw clanged noisily on the ground as his mouth fell open.

  “Say what? At least thirty years? And they were given those jhoruns??”

  “But, but…” Sarah sputtered. “They should have had their own! Thirty years! Couldn’t they figure out how to access their own jhoruns?”

  “Thirty years.” Steve repeated. “If they had jhoruns, they would have figured out how to make them work. What if they didn’t have them?”

  Sarah considered. “Well, if they didn’t have them, why do we? Are we just smarter than they were and figured out how to use them whereas they didn’t?”

  Steve shook his head. “We have only been here a few days. And we already know what it takes to make our jhoruns work. We might not have all the nuances down, but we have a decent idea on what it can and can’t do. I think you’re right. I don’t think they had jhoruns on their own.”

  Pointing to the book, Sarah indicated to Steve that she’d like him to continue reading.

  October 16th, 2008

  We’ve received our eighth quest. Discover the identities of the Nohrin and facilitate their arrival in any way we can with the full support of the court of R’Tal.

  I would say that we’ve been escalated again in their eyes to give us this much responsibility. The king and queen clearly are disturbed that the Nohrin haven’t arrived yet. They are utterly convinced that their son, Kre’Mikal, is in mortal danger. His highness is only seven years old, and hasn’t a clue to the danger his parents believe him to be in.

  I can’t say that I’m convinced the danger exists, but clearly everyone here believes it to be real. The foreign kingdom of Ylani has always been Lentari’s greatest rival, and would love to cause strife for their peace-loving neighbors. But would Ylani really make such a bold statement of war by trying to kidnap the young prince?

  The entire kingdom is rife with unease. I do not think it would take much for civil unrest to escalate out of hand. Everyone here loves their King and Queen, and the little boy Prince. If a rival kingdom were to somehow get their hands on that little boy, this kingdom will declare war faster than a griffin can snare a wiht.

  So now we’ve been tasked with finding the identities of the Nohrin. The Bakkian clearly states that the royal family will be challenged, and that the little Prince will not truly be safe until he is in their care. So who are they? What magic do they possess that can out-perform the wizards of R’Tal? Where do they come from? How can we possibly ascertain the origins of people mentioned in a four hundred year-old reference?

  Steve whistled. “A four hundred year-old reference? I wouldn’t want to have to track down these people, either.” He gestured to the journal. “That was two years ago. I wonder when these Nohrin guys showed up?”

  Sarah looked thoughtful. “Even if they did, I wouldn’t want to be the king or queen. How can you be certain that the people who arrived and claimed to be these Nohrin people were in fact who they claimed to be?”

  “Good point. They probably came up with a test of some sort.”

  Sarah took the journal from Steve. “If these people showed up, I’ll bet there would be some mention in here, don’t you think?”

  “Good one. Skim through and see what the next entries say.”

  “Let’s see.” Sarah scanned the next couple of pages. “Here’s an entry, dated early the next year. No progress made. Ummm, next we have an entry from the summer of 2009, still no progress. Looks like your grandfather is getting very nervous. Apparently the king and queen are getting restless.”

  Getting defensive, Steve snorted. “How can they expect them to track down these people if the only clues they have are from four hundred years ago? I wouldn’t know where to start, believe me. Sounds like the Homework Assignment from hell.”

  “Actually,” Sarah said, reading the next entry, “It looks like the king and queen were worried, but not frustrated. This entry says that the queen has been continually reassuring them, telling them to not give up hope. Looks like your grandfather was being incredibly hard on himself. I guess he took his job seriously.” She looked up from the journal and met her husband’s eyes. “Sound like anyone we know?”

  Steve hmmphed at her, indicating for her to continue.

  “Let’s see, the next couple of entries are all from 2009, and all of them pretty much say the same thing. They aren’t having any luck identifying who the Nohrin are. The first entry from 2010 mentions that the king and queen have granted them an extended leave of absence so that they can then focus all of their energies into their task when they return. Says here that the king is figuring they are working too hard and need to rest.”

  Sarah quietly closed the journal. “Hon, that’s the last entry.”

  Steve paled. That meant his grandparents died during their “vacation” and would therefore be unable to complete their last quest.

  Sarah took his hand. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s just spooky to hear about what they were doing before they died. And apparently, they were on some important mission to find several people who could supposedly protect the little prince.”

  There came a sudden knocking on the door. Both occupants quickly sat up on the bed. Steve made it to the door first and opened it. There stood a soldier, clearly a high ranking one due to the way he carried himself. His uniform was a deep, scarlet color with a jeweled sword sheathed on his hip. Several daggers were visible in various locations along his belt.

  Behind the soldier was the innkeeper, nervously twisting his apron in his large, beefy hands.

  Steve’s demeanor quickly shifted to neutral. “Hello. Is there something I can do for you?”

  The soldier’s eyes narrowed, noting the different manner in which the foreigner spoke. He raised his right hand, dismissing the owner of the inn.

  “May I enter?” Without waiting for a response, he strode purposely into the room and faced the occupants.

  “I am Rhenyon, captain of the Royal Guards. Who are ye? And more importantly, where are ye from? Mr. Thacken told me a man, ye, I presume, was able to heat three rather large cauldrons effortlessly using naught but his jhorun. Did he speak the truth?”

  Sarah had silently positioned herself behind her husband. Just in case. She was pretty sure her husband would keep his head and not do anything foolish. However, she had also personally witnessed what he was capable of.

  Steve met the captain’s stare.

  “Good evening. My name is Steve. This is my wife, Sarah. And as you can probably figure out, no, we’re not from around here.”

  Not sensing any danger from either one of the strangers, the soldier relaxed his posture.

  “The lady of the inn tells me that she had help preparing for my arrival. She was very appreciative of the strange man and his powerful abilities.” Rhenyon held Steve’s gaze. “Care to explain the nature of that ability?”

  “Long story short, I can apparently control heat and fire.”

  Rhenyon’s eyebrows shot up. “Ye have control over one of the elements? Speak ye the truth??”

  “I don’t know if I’d call it that, but yeah, I do appear to have control over fire. Why? What’s the big deal?”

  “Demonstrate this, if ye please.”

  Steve glanced over to the fire in the fireplace.

  Poof!

  The fire went out, leaving red-hot coals glowing brightly in the flame’s absence. Steve counted to ten, and then re-ignited it.

  Rhenyon cocked his head, staring at the newcomers. He was silent for a few minutes as he contemplated what to do.

  Sarah peaked around her husband to look at the soldier.

  “Is there a problem? Why do you look as though you were just given some bad news? We aren’t a threat, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  Rhenyon met her eyes. “I
t’s not often that we see someone with an elemental jhorun, milady. I wanted to see for myself if that were the case.” He studied the two of them. “What are yer intentions? Why are ye here?”

  Steve elbowed his wife aside and faced Rhenyon head-on.

  “We’re just looking to return home. But in order to do so, we need the help of your king and queen. So we’re on our way to R’Tal to seek an audience.”

  Rhenyon nodded, pleased. “Then I wish ye well with yer journey.” He unbuckled one of his daggers and handed it to Steve. “Take this. My crest is on the hilt. If ye are stopped by any of my soldiers, show them this. Ye will be able to travel throughout the kingdom unmolested.”

  Startled by this unexpected turn of events, Steve took the dagger, momentarily at a loss for words. “Ummm, thanks.” He ran his hand along the hilt, admiring the workmanship. “Is this necessary? Are we apt to run into troubles with your soldiers?”

  Rhenyon shrugged. “Two foreigners who are unfamiliar with our customs. My soldiers are trained to ask questions.” He eyed the couple. “At least, they should.”

  The captain extended his right forearm. Without even thinking, Steve grasped the proffered arm and gave it a friendly shake.

  “Good journey to ye, then,” the soldier said.

  “Thanks.”

  Rhenyon turned and left the room. When the door finally closed behind him, Steve let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He looked at Sarah.

  “What the hell was that all about?”

  Sarah spread her hands. “Don’t ask me. Did we do something wrong? Maybe you shouldn’t have used your jhorun to heat those cauldrons up. Apparently you have a really unique ability.”

  “If they knew about yours, they’d say the same thing. But you’re right, we really should use caution. I don’t want any more surprise visits from any type of soldier.” He thumped his chest to get the blood flowing. “That scared the crap out of me.” He turned to his wife and cracked a smile. “Couldn’t help but notice that you moved directly behind me.”

  “And be in the line of fire if it came to that? No thank you.” Sarah put her arms around him. “Besides, I know that you really don’t want to hurt anyone, unless they pose a serious threat.”

  Steve paused. “Do you think that Thacken turned us in or something?”

  Sarah shook her head. “I don’t think so. He seems nice, as does his wife. Rhenyon probably offered up his thanks to the owner of the inn for being ready for him on such short notice, and then Thack mentioned that he had help. I don’t think there was any harm done.”

  Steve hefted the jeweled dagger. “So why in the world did he give us this? Don’t you think that it’s a bit odd? I really don’t think he’s worried about his men. I think he had some other motive in mind.”

  Sarah took the dagger and ran her fingers over the crest. It was of a stationary griffin, clasping some type of tree branch in his beak. A broad­sword and a crossbow rested nearby. This was not some rudimentary dagger. The craftsmanship that went into the creation of this weapon was truly masterful. So why would he willingly part with it? What was his motive?

  Confused, tired, and oddly enough, in high spirits, husband and wife fell instantly asleep. The fire in the hearth slowly died down until nothing but coals remained. Sarah, unconsciously noting the absence of the fire, snuggled closer.

  Only a little while later, Sarah had awakened, drenched with sweat. When had their room turned into an oven anyway? Propping herself up on her elbow, she looked over the sleeping form of her husband to glare at the small hearth. Only a few coals were still glowing red. That couldn’t be it. What was going on? Steve rolled suddenly until he was flat on his back, his snores threatening to shake the dust of the rafters. The blast of heat had her gasping. Was he having a bad dream? If she didn’t do something quickly, this room was going to become a sauna. Nudging him gently in the ribs, she told him to roll over. There, that did it. She could feel the heat diminishing, like someone turning off a space heater. That was so much better!

  Cooler, and much more comfortable, Sarah fell asleep.