Fairy Tales (The Two Moons of Rehnor, Book 15)

by J. Naomi Ay

  He attempted to meet an eye, whereupon he would reward it with an appreciative wink, a nod of his head, and a raise of an eyebrow. He expected the fair maiden’s breath to catch, for her to swoon, or grow a little faint. Unfortunately, all he usually caught was the village alpha’s fist, and subsequently, a black eye or loosened tooth.

  At this point, Maytor’s visit in the village, and his attempt at socializing with the young crowd often ended with him tossed outside upon his buttocks.

  "Go wink at the goats," the young alphas often called, followed by a bubble of laughter from the girls Maytor had tried to entice.

  So, Maytor continued his travels alone, believing he was happy, even though he wasn’t, but Maytor didn’t know that.

  The truth, as it often is, when one is alone, they are lonely, and Maytor, despite his bravado, felt quite empty. He'd lie on the ground at night in the forest, with only his latest donkey to keep him company, and to listen to his complaints, or join him in song.

  Sometimes there was a carter, or a sledman next to Maytor’s fire, but usually they were drunk, or sound asleep. Poor lonely Maytor would stare up at the stars and two moons wishing and dreaming for something, anything, as he never was entirely certain just what he wanted.

  One night when the weather was cold and the rain incessantly falling upon his head, Maytor was walking across a valley, having sold his latest steed for food and two night’s hired bed. At the next town he hoped to work enough days to purchase another donkey or mule. In the meantime, he was on foot, cursing himself for the waste of a good animal in exchange for a few good night’s sleep.

  "Fool, fool, fool," he muttered, wafts of steam erupting from his mouth, and rising upward like clouds of cigarette smoke.

  Actually, Maytor wouldn't have minded a cig right about then. It would have warmed his insides, and entertained him for a bit, as he liked to exhale rings and other shapes into the air. He imagined he could entrance a girl with this skill if she would only bear his presence long enough.

  However, Maytor's pockets were empty of everything except a few rocks, which he had collected in his travels across the land. This was another oddity about Maytor, for he loved his rocks better than anything else he owned, which was now limited to the clothes upon his back.

  In his pocket, here were some pretty agates, opalite, a piece of gypsum, and some petrified wood, which he lovingly rolled between his fingers as he walked.

  He could have traded a rock for cig, he supposed. This piece of opalite might have garnered an entire pack. But, to Maytor these rocks were like children, like the offspring he didn't have, nor would ever, while a cigarette would be gone in a matter of moments.

  It was right about then, when Maytor's nose encountered the scent of burning tobacco as it wafted gently in his direction.

  "Hmmm," Maytor exclaimed aloud and turned around.

  There, he encountered a wise old man who was marching along on the same trail, a smoking cigarette lodged between his teeth. Maytor assumed that was what the stranger was, for he had both an old and wise look about the little bits of his appearance which Maytor could see beneath the stranger’s heavy cloak and hood.

  "Good day," the stranger said, briefly removing the cig from between his lips. Maytor eyed it enviously, wondering if the stranger might share the smoke. If not, Maytor would request to finish the butt as he was both that desperate and never one to puff up with pride.

  "Good day," Maytor responded politely, bending forward in a little bow before remarking casually about the rain, and the delicious smell of the stranger’s tobacco.

  “There’s a taste of snow in the air,” the stranger said, nodding his head and moving along, effectively dismissing Maytor from his presence. Maytor didn’t see it that way though. Instead, he picked up his own pace to match the stranger step for step.

  “You think so?” Maytor inquired, his voice still pleasant and polite, while turning his face to the dark, gray sky. He held out his tongue to sample the rain, which tasted like water with a slight essence of pine. While cold, it was not quite snow, although Maytor was never one to disagree. "Yes, yes, I believe you are correct. Snow, definitely snow is on the way. I expect winter shall be here before long.” Maytor clutched the sides of his cloak together, and feigned a bone-wracking chill.

  "I welcome it,” the stranger replied, still smoking that coveted cigarette. “I don't like the summer heat at all."

  “Me neither,” Maytor again agreed. This was a lie, of course. Maytor vastly preferred the warm, lazy days of summer, but the cig was now down to a tiny butt. “Will you be finishing that, do you think?”

  “This?”

  Maytor emphatically nodded.

  “Would you like your own?” The stranger reached in a pocket and produced a fresh one for Maytor’s enjoyment.

  As if he were a canine, and the cigarette a marrow bone, Maytor instantly claimed the stranger as his new best friend. The fact that Maytor had no other friends was irrelevant. He resolved to accompany the old man wherever he journeyed, or at least, until the stranger made him leave.

  The stranger, who introduced himself as Vinz, didn’t mind Maytor’s presence as long as he kept his mouth mostly shut. Vinz’s largest concern was that he might die one day under a tree with no one to notice, or to be suitably sad. As the winter was nearly upon them and Vinz’s intended destination of Kirkut still half a mountain range away, this possibility seemed slightly greater than remote, and so he consented to the younger man’s companionship, although he knew at times he would regret it.

  Vinz had never been to Kirkut. In fact, his entire life, save a brief, and somewhat foolish sojourn in outer space, had been spent on the Mishnese continent. However, Vinz had a look about him that people often said was like those of Karupatani. In his youth, his mother claimed, Vinz resembled the then Crown Prince, the MaKennah, whose father was Karupta and mother, Mishnese.

  Of course, the then Crown Prince, the MaKennah’s countenance was amazingly beatific, while Vinz, at times could be considered downright ugly. The only resemblance that Vinz could claim was similarly curled black hair, and a tendency for his pale skin to tan to a golden hue during the summer.

  Vinz’s mother never revealed who his father might have been, which led Vinz to believe that she didn’t know. Most likely, he was one of many who availed himself of her services, as the poor lady earned her living on her back.

  For most of his life, the question of his parentage had been a minor annoyance to Vinz, if even that. Considering his profession in chemical engineering, it was somewhat curious that he found his own genetics so uninteresting. However, in his retirement, having acquired a few ailments common to old age, his biological makeup became somewhat important, thus prompting him to have his cellular structure analyzed.

  Indeed, to his not so great surprise, Vinz discovered he was half Karupta. This elicited a new entry on his bucket list. The list itself was surprisingly short, containing now only this grand walking tour of Karupatani, and a reunion with an old friend, the Dowager Duchess Luci of Korelesk and Kildoo.

  Luci, like Vinz, had been born into poverty on the same street, and in the same decrepit section of the city of Korelesk. Like Vinz, she had ventured to New Mishnah, and like Vinz, she had met Berkan, who unbeknownst to either of them, was the then Crown Prince’s best friend. Unlike Vinz, she had married Berkan, and risen in standing over the years. She had also suffered the great tragedies, which often beset the ruling class, while Vinz’s greatest loss, other than Luci, was the evaporation of his retirement fund when the stock market tanked only a couple of years ago.

  Despite this, Vinz believed that Luci had always loved him, and might love him still, had it not been for his big mistake. For the truth was, Luci fell for Berkan on the rebound. Up until the day Luci’s youngest sister, Baby had arrived in their midst, immediately wooing Vinz with her irresistible charms, Vinz and Luci were determined to be a pair. Vinz’s always regretted his impulsive action, for Baby left him only d
ays after they ran away.

  However, Vinz supposed, it must have been fate that intervened, for certainly Luci did much better with Berkan. Far more so than she ever could have done with Vinz. Berkan rose to become an Imperial Duke, and Chief of Staff to the Emperor’s court, while Vinz worked in a lab that analyzed outsourced pathological samples from hospitals. Of course, one had to overlook the fact that Luci killed Berkan many years later in a manner some would have referred to as execution style.

  Now, Luci was widowed, which made Vinz think that she might be inclined to renew their friendship, although he hadn’t approached her at this point. A widow needed time to recover herself, regardless of the circumstances of her widowhood.

  Furthermore, he wasn’t certain how to do it. One didn’t just ring the Duchess of Korelesk and say, ‘Hey, do you want to get a coffee?’, and neither could he send her an email or text announcing, ‘Hi, it’s Vinz.’ He would need to come up with the appropriate channel to contact her subtly and with care, without scaring her away or causing another murderous rampage.

  In the meantime, he resolved to walk across Karupatani, to get in touch with those roots he had never known, all the while, contemplating how to reacquaint himself with his one true love.

  “So, where are we headed?” Maytor asked, loping alongside Vinz, as the elder was taller with much longer legs.

  “Across the mountains,” Vinz replied. “I have visited all of the villages on this side, and now I wish to see the others along the divide.”

  As Maytor had never been over the mountains either, he happily journeyed the distance with the old man. He had no idea how his life would suddenly change upon arriving in the village of Kirkut, and spying the most beautiful girl he could have imagined.

  Colinda was beautiful in an innocent, unspoiled way, and Maytor, being both dirt poor and heavily soiled, was a perfect match. He didn’t mind that she already had a child. In fact, Maytor would be thrilled to acquire this instant family. Unfortunately, he had no clue how to win her hand.

  “Wash and clean yourself,” Vinz suggested, taking his knife to Maytor’s unruly beard and hair. “Speak politely. Call her Ma’am. Bow from the waist.”

  "Do you think I can win her?" Maytor gasped, scrubbing years of dirt from deep within his pores.

  "Apparently so," Vinz replied, for there she was.

  With young Arsan by her side, his tiny hand grasped tightly in hers, Colinda stared at Maytor across the village hall. She met his curious, wide eyes with her own dewy, round gaze and recognized her soul mate therein. Maytor’s traveling days abruptly came to an end, replaced by the daily grind of domestic life, which still didn’t include holding down a job.

  A short time later, Vinz left the village alone, leaving Maytor in the care of Colinda and her boy. He continued his travels across Karupatani, all the while preparing for his eventual reunion with the noble Luci, never imagining, and frankly, hoping he'd never encounter Maytor again.

  Maytor loved being a father, and Arsan was just the perfect boy for that, having never known a paternal figure, outside of the ghostly visits of the MaKennah. Arsan was also quiet and shy, never one to argue, even with Maytor, despite how often the man was misinformed or misguided. In the short time they were together, they forged a provisional bond. In fact, Maytor was the first one to whom Arsan had demonstrated his healing powers.

  While walking through the forest one afternoon in search of wild turkeys to bring home for dinner, Maytor mistakenly pierced his own leg with an arrow. Arsan had been a short distance away. Hidden by fallen leaves and berry brambles, the boy was speaking to the very turkeys Maytor had been seeking.

  “Run away,” Arsan was whispering. “It’s not safe here. Hurry! Quick!”

  “Gobble gobble,” or something like that, the turkeys replied.

  They were interrupted by a shout as Maytor discovered his arrow had gone amiss. This was followed by a host of profanities begun with ‘Kari-fa’.

  Arsan scrambled from the brush just in time to discover Maytor profusely bleeding. As luck would have it, Maytor had pierced his femoral artery, and was imminently dying, something the newlywed man was not overly keen to do. The child placed his healing hand right into the midst of the wound, instantly sealing it up, and leaving neither scratch nor scab.

  “Hey, that was cool,” Maytor proclaimed, rising to his feet, and testing his leg by dancing a little jig. “You’re one really useful kid to have around.”

  Five years later while Arsan was enjoying the company of Goom and Gani, Maytor had finally found employment as the village trash collector. Colinda was an assistant teacher at their daughter, Mayco’s nursery class, when out of the blue, she fell down and began to spasm.

  “Kari-fa!” the other mothers screamed, grabbing their children and running from the room. “Colinda is possessed by an evil spirit.”

  The village doctor arrived, and Maytor was summoned to retrieve poor Colinda, who was now foaming at the mouth, and muttering incomprehensibly, while Mayco sat across the room coloring with crayons.

  “What is it?” Maytor gasped, the screaming Mayco now in his arms, as he had interrupted the child during the creation of her latest masterpiece. “Is my wife possessed by an evil spirit?”

  “That’s ridiculous,” the doctor snapped. “Are you a primitive fool, or just a fool? The poor, unfortunate woman has a brain tumor. You need to take her to Mishnah, to an SdK hospital there. We don’t have facilities that can treat her as well as they.”

  “No no no,” Colinda wailed, her eyes roiling widely in her head. “I won’t go to Mishnah, no I won’t.”

  So, Maytor took her home and propped her up in bed where she recovered for the next week or two.

  Feeling completely back to normal, Colinda resumed her daily tasks of caring for the child, and working at the nursery school. But, again, two weeks later, Maytor received another frantic summons when Colinda seized again, falling over upon Mayco’s castle of wooden blocks.

  “We have to go to Mishnah,” Maytor insisted, when Colinda returned back to her bed, an ice pack covering the new large red bump on her forehead.

  “No no no,” Colinda wept. “I’d sooner die than go to them. The Mishaks killed my grandfather in the wars.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Maytor mumbled. “But, you probably will die if you stay this way.”

  “I’d do it,” Colinda declared. “To avenge my granddaddy’s honor.”

  That didn’t make a whole lot of sense to Maytor, but then, he never had a granddaddy whose honor he must avenge, so he shrugged his shoulders and tried to think of another way. He consulted with the village doctor, who shook his head and pointed towards Mishnah. Maytor called upon the village nurse, who clucked her tongue. Finally, he spoke to the village idiot, who incidentally was himself, and arrived at the answer he had been seeking all along.

  “I know what to do!” Maytor gasped, the realization hitting him like a bolt of lightning as he was walking through the forest trying to think. A wild turkey ran in front of him, causing him to recall that event with Arsan half a decade ago. “I’ll find the boy, and bring him home to cure his mother with his hand.”

  With the few pennies in his purse, Maytor hired an old woman to sit with Colinda and Mayco, to watch over them while he ventured to Kudisha in search of the boy. As luck would have it, just as he set forth, a tall, thin stranger appeared on the horizon, heading east across the mountains in a donkey cart.

  It was Vinz, his old friend, who had travelled the entire continent in the intervening years. Now, he too, was on his way back, heading toward Kudisha. Once there, he’d stay for a fortnight or two, before taking a boat across the ocean, after which, he’d call upon Duchess Luci and ask for her hand.

  Chapter 6

  Gani had never been outside of the Dark Continent, although she didn’t bother to consider that when she set forth. She assumed Karupatani, and Mishnah, if she made it that far, would be just like her homeland, and therefore, she needn’t worry.


  “You should wear some clothing,” the trader said, as she stood on the gangplank of his boat. He was a Karupta man with long, greasy-looking black hair. His brown skin was nearly as dark as Gani’s purple, but he was as tall as three of her put together. “If you arrive in Karupta like that, you’ll freeze to death.”

  Gani looked down at her near-naked body, at the thin sheath she normally wore when she wasn’t swimming.

  “I haven’t got anything else,” she mumbled, her tail swishing wildly with distress.

  The trader rolled his eyes, and sucked on his tobacco stick. He gazed heavenward, as if waiting for a sign. Then, he looked around the tiny wharf at the fisherman in the other boats.

  “You say you are Goom’s granddaughter?” he repeated. “And, Goom is dead?”

  Gani nodded emphatically. Enormous tears welled in her lilac eyes. She held out her grandfather’s favorite walking stick. It was made of ebony, and so highly polished, it shone liquid, like black gold. It glowed in Gani’s tiny hand as she offered it to him.

  The trader took it, and looked it over, noting Goom’s name engraved on the top, his huge fingers leaving marks all over the beautiful wood. Gani’s tears grew even larger as she imagined Goom cursing at the smudges on his precious stick.

  “Alright, alright,” the trader said. “I’ll find you an empty burlap sack to wear.”

  For most of the voyage, which lasted a little more than a week, but was far too long in Gani’s opinion, the girl spent with her head hanging over the rail. She had no idea that the seas could be so turbulent, that they could rise to such great heights. Neither could she imagine how quickly they would then fall. As if a great hole had opened beneath them, the waves, which only a moment before had been splashing upon her face, instantly disappeared as if sucked through a giant straw. The little boat rocked and pitched, heaved and hoed, rolled and waked, while every molecule in Gani’s stomach was tossed over the side.