After they had done all they could, they stood for a while, looking down at him, watching his chest slowly moving up and down.
“Is he going to live?” Jana asked, her eyes red and her face still streaked with tears. Tobias looked at Brant, anxiously waiting for an answer.
Brant had no idea if he would live or not, but he knew they didn’t want to hear that. “He will make it. He lost a lot of blood. But you did a good job stitching him together. And Kaan is strong. Don’t worry. He will not die.”
“Brant,” Tobias said, looking at him suspiciously. “How did you kill that thing? I saw your sword light up with blue fire.”
“Let us not talk of that now. Jana, prepare some broth for your father for when he wakes. He will need it to regain his strength. “Tobias, come with me and help me bury that creature.”
Kaan woke on the second day. He had a slight fever the first day, but by the second day it had broken, and it was early the following day that his eyes fluttered open while Jana was wiping his face with a wet cloth. She grinned with relief, and shouted for her brother who was busy cleaning the plates from their morning meal.
“Tobias, Father is awake!”
Tobias ran over and knelt by Kaan. “Father, how do you feel?”
Kaan looked around slowly, his dazed eyes taking in his surroundings. He seemed to be attempting to piece things together. “What happened?” he asked groggily.
“We were attacked by a kulg,” Tobias said quickly.
Kaan paused, as his mind struggled to recall the events, “I remember,” he said softly. Brant killed it?” he asked, but it sounded more like a statement than a question.
“He did,” Jana replied.
“Where is he? Can I have some water?”
Jana looked at Tobias. “Go get Brant. I’ll get you some water, Father.” Tobias ran out the front door while Jana poured some cold water into a cup. Kneeling before him she tilted the cup to his lips, allowing small amounts of the clear liquid to pour down his throat. “How do your wounds feel?”
He lifted the cover off his chest to take a look. The stitches were a bit irregular but they seemed to be holding his flesh together nicely, and the blood had coagulated, leaving only an encrusted residue along the sutures. The skin around the stitches was still red and puffy, but there was no foul smell so they were relieved the wounds seemed to be healing cleanly. “They are tender and are beginning to itch a bit, but they seem to be healing. You did a very good job, Jana. Thank you.”
“Father, I was so scared,” she said, lowering her head.
Kaan reached up and held his daughter’s hand as he looked her in the eyes. “You saved my life. You should be proud. I am very proud of you.”
She smiled. “It was Brant that saved your life.”
Just then Brant entered through the front door with Tobias on his heels. “You’re awake,” he said, kneeling next to Kaan. “How do you feel?”
Kaan smiled. “Sore and hungry, but I’m alive, and happy about that. Thank you for saving my family,” Kaan said seriously.
“I’m just glad I was here.”
“Not to seem ungrateful, but I think there is something you need to tell me, young man.”
Brant sighed. “Kaan, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I really don’t know much about it.”
“It being that you are a Merger,” Kaan said sternly.
“Yes, but I only just found out myself what that even means. What happened with the kulg was simply an accident. I didn’t know what I was doing. The power just came and consumed me.”
“It’s a good thing it did. I’m afraid if you hadn’t energized those blades, they would have done little damage to that beast.”
“I’m sorry I destroyed your swords.”
Kaan waved the comment away, smiling. “Do not fret, Brant, I would gladly destroy a thousand swords to save my family. Are you of noble lineage?”
“No. Both my parents were poor and my entire life has been spent working the mines.”
“Well, I have heard of commoners being born with the Way, but you’re the first one I’ve met. Be careful, Brant, your power will put you in danger.”
“I know; which is why I never said anything to you to begin with.”
Kaan nodded his head in understanding. “Well, I thank you again for saving my family. I don’t know how I can repay you.”
Brant was silent for a moment as he wondered, a bit wistfully, what it would be like to have a close family. After a few moments he spoke. “You don’t owe me anything. Besides, I have more bad news.”
Kaan raised his eyebrows. “What?” he asked guardedly.
“There is no more Sil,” Brant said solemnly.
Kaan laughed. “Well that is bad news.” Then he got serious again. “But think about it…if we hadn’t had that elixir, I might be dead. There’s no better cure than a strong drink, and there’s no better tasting one than Sil.
“Worth every coin,” Jana added.
Kaan nodded his head in agreement. “But I’d give anything for a sip now,” he sighed. Then he gave Brant a more serious look. “What will you do when you leave here?”
Brant pursed his lips in thought. “I guess I’ll go south. I’ll look for work in the small towns along the way. But if no opportunity presents itself I’ll head to Cythera. I was thinking of joining the Legion.”
“A sound plan. One more thing. Do you think you could help me up so I could lay in my own bed instead of this hard dirty floor?”
Jana and Tobias laughed, happy that their father felt well enough to start complaining. “Sure,” Brant said.
Together, they helped Kaan up from the floor. He was visibly exhausted as he strained to make his way to his bed. Once he was comfortable, he spoke to Brant again. “We don’t have much work left for you, Brant. But I was hoping you’d stay long enough for me to get on my feet again. What say you?”
Jana and Tobias were both looking at Brant expectantly.
“Of course I’ll stay.” Jana and Tobias grinned unabashedly.
One month later found Brant walking the cart trail south, his bag slung over his shoulder. Jana had packed him some dried tulkick, several rounds of homemade cheese, and two loaves of bread. Kaan had told him that the nearest town outside of Bygon, Amorsit, was a two day walk from their home. Brant had to admit that he was going to miss them. He had enjoyed the work at the farm, and the camaraderie he experienced with Kaan and his family was something new to him. It was strange, he had only been with them for six months, but he felt closer to them than he ever had with his own father.
At several points along the road, more cart paths branched off, heading both east and west to other destinations. He saw a few travelers throughout the day, one heading north with a cart of potatoes, and the other, a family heading east to visit some relatives in a small town called Summerbell. Before the sun had fully set, Brant stepped off the path to make camp for the night. There was a patch about five paces in diameter where the grass was all laying on its side, as if it had been used as a camp site before or maybe where a herd of tulkick had bedded down for a night. As soon as he saw the ring of stones and the cold remains of a fire Brant realized that it had previously been used by other travelers. He collected some wood nearby and piled it up by the stones and just when he was about to lay out his bed role and start a fire the sounds of an approaching wagon turned his attention away from the task. Standing up he saw a small covered wagon approach with two people sitting in the front.
“Ho traveler, might we camp with you this night? There is safety in numbers and we have exhausted the sun’s light.”
As they neared, Brant noticed that the man that spoke was young, perhaps in his twenties, while the passenger, who had thus far remained silent, was withered and old, with a long gray beard and mustache that covered most of his face. The old man wore a thick gray traveling cloak and he leaned forward in his seat to get a better look at Brant. Brant noticed that his eyes looked strange, nearly white, with cent
ers streaked with brilliant blue like lightning bolts flashing in a gray tumultuous sky. Despite the shadows caused by the setting sun, the man’s eyes stood out like blood on snow.
Brant shrugged. “You are free to join me. But I have little food, and I should warn you that I know how to defend myself.” His bravado sounded lame but he had little experience with dealing with travelers and the thought of sleeping near strangers set him on edge.
The old man turned his head curiously and Brant thought he saw the faint flicker of a smile. The young man nodded. “Thank you, sir. We have food to share if it pleases you and rest assured, we are simple travelers making our way home from Cythera. We will be of no harm.” The man got down from the wagon and proceeded to help the older man, who once stood on solid ground moved slowly but steadily toward Brant. The younger man unhitched the mules and set about preparing their camp.
The old man sat cross legged in the grass as Brant went about building the fire. It wasn’t long before the flames were flickering high, the light of the fire chasing away the darkness that had finally settled in around them. The younger traveler carried a lantern and after several trips had four heavy wool blankets as well as a bag of supplies lying before the warm flames. The old man simply sat their staring at Brant.
“Me name’s Tilden and this is Angon.” He reached out and shook Brant’s hand. Angon didn’t move or say a thing.
“I’m Brant.”
Reaching into his bag he pulled out three apples, a loaf of bread, some other things that Brant couldn’t see in the darkness, as well as a contraption that looked like a steel tripod. “Apple?”
Brant had already laid out several hunks of cheese, his dried tulkick and a loaf of bread. The apple sounded good and Tilden could read his expression clearly enough. Tossing the apple to Brant he went about setting the tripod over the fire, a hook and chain dangling from the center over the flickering flames. Brant ate the apple with relish. “What was your business in Cythera,” he asked, trying to break the silence. He was not one prone to many words and he had little experience with casual banter.
“We travel to the city once a year to pick up supplies that cannot be purchased anywhere else. We are on our way home now,” Tilden replied. “What of you? Where are you headed?”
“Amorsit. I’m looking for work.”
“What can you do?”
Brant shrugged. “I’m a laborer. I know a little of farming. What is your line of work?”
“Me? I take care of Angon.” Tilden looked at the old man and Brant saw him nod. “Angon is a healer.”
“I see.” Loosening up some, Brant offered them some food. “I have some dried tulkick, bread, and cheese if you would like some.”
Knowing that not to accept would be rude, Tilden agreed to several pieces of tulkick, a hunk of a crumbly cheese, and half of the loaf of bread. Tilden proceeded to procure a wine skin, a stringy cheese that Brant had never seen, a small slab of cured ham, as well as a jar of honey and butter that he slathered onto the bread. They shared it all and in the silence they filled their bellies, the warmth of the wine in their stomachs and the soothing heat from fire on their skin breaking any tension that remained.
“How did you injure your back?” It was Angon who spoke, his voice soft and gentle. Brant was almost startled as it was the only thing the old man had said so far, and besides how did he know that is back was still hurting him? Ever since the fight with the kulg, Brant had had flashing pain in his lower back. He suspected the injury occurred when he was tossed against the wall of the cabin. The pain came and went, worse when he lifted things or worked hard all day. It was as stabbing pain that was still causing him considerable discomfort.
“How did you know I hurt my back?” Brant was suddenly guarded and Tilden sensed the change in his demeanor.
“I can see it. Your aura is angry around the injury.”
Tilden jumped in quickly. “Angon, perhaps it’s not wise…”
Angon silenced him with a raised hand. “He is a Merger.” This time it was Tilden’s turn to look uncomfortable, and wary, his posture alert. Brant noticed that his hand had dropped to his hunting knife sheathed at his side. “Leave the knife, Tilden. Brant is no threat.”
Tilden seemed to relax a little, but Brant did not. “How can you see my injury and how did you know I’m a Merger?”
Angon ignored his question and asked his own. “You have not known long, have you?”
There was something about the man that emanated power. He had a sense of confidence that surrounded him and without thinking, Brant found himself answering him. “I have not. I was told…recently. I know little of this…power.”
“You are not of noble lineage.” It was not a question but Brant answered it just the same.
Brant shook his head. “No.”
Angon looked to Tilden. “Would you mind preparing some tylum?” Then he looked back to Brant, his strange eyes dancing with interest. “We can talk over a warm drink. Have you had tylum before?”
“I have not.”
Tilden went about filling a metal pot with water and hanging it from the chain over the fire. “Tylum is a sweet drink made from a tylum pod,” Angon continued. “It grows in Enoreth far to the south and is quite rare. Inside the pod are many white seeds, that when ground down to a powder and added to water and sugar, produce a smooth drink that is very delicious. It has a stimulating effect similar to coffee. I like to add a little ganth to mine.”
Brant knew that ganth was a potent alcohol made from grain. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. But I am willing to try it.” Suddenly Brant’s mind flashed with bright colors as the auras of the two men in front of him blurred across his vision. Closing his eyes abruptly he leaned over as his mind swam with the disorientating colors. Closing his eyes had helped a little, but in his mind’s eye he still saw flashes of colors that represented the auras of Angon and Tilden. Tilden’s was barely noticeable next to Angon’s shining aura. After twenty heartbeats the aura tracers had passed and he sat back up, opening his eyes to both of them staring at him.
“You will learn to control your towd. That is your aura sight. Think of something that you can mentally picture closing, like maybe a door or window shutters. As you practice closing the shutters to the sight, the flashes and disorientation will go away.”
“How do you know this?”
“I am a Kynan.” He said nothing more, as if it were enough to elicit a mighty response.
But Brant had never heard the word. “What is a Kynan?”
Tilden had poured the hot water into three cups and had stirred in the white tylum powder and sugar. He was just pouring in several capfuls of ganth when Brant had stated his ignorance of the Kynan. Stopping in mid-pour, Tilden glanced at Angon, his surprise evident. Angon seemed amused. “You have not heard of the Kynan?”
Brant knew that he lacked knowledge of the world around him, and it frustrated him greatly and angered him when other’s pointed it out. “I said as much,” he replied tersely.
Tilden handed them each a cup of tylum and Brant seemed to relax a little. “He meant no disrespect,” Tilden added quickly. “It is just that Kynan is a word surrounded with silly superstition. For most people it is synonymous with demons and kulgs roaming the night, killing unsuspecting travelers. But those biases are based on ignorance and are far from the truth.”
Brant took a sip of his tylum and despite his earlier flash of anger, a smile spread slowly across his face. The drink was simply incredible. It was smooth and thick, with a sweet buttery note countered with a warm bite from the ganth. “This is really good.”
Angon smiled with him as he took a sip from his cup. “I’m glad you are enjoying it.” Their conversation paused momentarily as they each drank their tylum. “I am Kynan, something rarely mentioned as people know not what it means. There are few of us left. In fact I am over three hundred years old.”
Brant smiled at that as if it were a joke. But once he saw that Angon seemed serious, and
that Tilden did not react as if it were funny, his smile disappeared and was replaced with a thoughtful look of his own. “You’re serious?”
“I am.”
“How is that possible?”
“Brant, I cannot tell you the mysterious of the world around you in one night sitting around a camp fire. But I will try to enlighten you some. What do you know of the gods?’
“Very little,” he admitted. “I know there are old gods but they are no longer worshiped openly. I know that Argon and Felina are worshipped mostly throughout Corvell. That is the extent of my knowledge.”
Angon sighed, as if Brant’s lack of knowledge made it difficult for him to decide where to start. After several quiet moments he finally spoke. “Most people view the world through a lens of ignorance. People here, in Dy’ain, Kael, Gilia, and Layone, will have you think that the world and everything in it were creations of Argon and Felina, including the Way, the power that you yourself possess. But it is simply not true. Think of the world as you know it as a bag filled with sand, and the belief that that bag was created by Argon and Felina being just one grain. Our world is much older than that. Each grain of sand in the bag goes back many cyns ago, and each grain, or maybe two, being another idea or belief of how the world was created.”
“I cannot wrap my thoughts around something that big,” Brant interjected.
“Few can, which is why they focus on one grain of sand at a time. I am Kynan. We are scholars, we are healers, and we are wielders of the earth’s magic. We have been around for many grains of sand, but even we have no idea how many thousands, or millions, of grains there are in this bag. The magic in our world is old and deep, entwined in its essence in a way that is difficult to understand. Over many grains of sand and thousands of cyns, we have been hunted, killed, and banished, our knowledge lost in the wind like a leaf caught in a storm. But it was not always this way. Long ago, thousands of cyns before me, the Kynan were the shepherds of this magic. We cultivated it and nourished it, but for reasons even I do not know, we slowly lost our power and way, and eventually we nearly became extinct. We are few now, shunned and hunted as demons in the night. But know this, the power that resides in you, is earth magic that created everything you see. The Way, as you call it, was not created by Argon and Felina, nor was it graced to the nobility by Argon and Felina, as many royal families would have you believe.”
The Steel Lord: Book 01 - BannerFall Page 14
