The Legacy of Lanico: Reclaiming Odana

by E Cantu Alegre

  Gish continued quickly, to deflect the tension: "This was a test for me, to prove to my father whether he could allow me to inherit the throne in Odana, and eventually take leadership over the Mysra." Gish finally looked up to meet Marin's bewildered gaze. “He has wanted to find your hidden realm for years.” Gish gulped and then said, "This is why I have to bring you back." Would the boy wait for more?

  Marin staring at Gish with intensity, digging his feet into the ground a little, fear in his eyes.

  ✽✽✽

  Lanico listened intently from his hiding place. All the worst, it was true. It had to be. His own mother – what Gish had mentioned about the mining. His thoughts spun over how she may have been impacted. He would put an end to it. He would find a way.

  Among the many astonishments he had, he was bewildered at Trayvor's level of stupidity. Just when I thought he couldn't become any more senseless. Nevertheless, Lanico refocused on the current situation. Perhaps Marin isn't in any great danger—yet. But this Mysra, Gish, will have Grude searching for him soon . . . to know the outcome of the test.

  Lanico noticed the wild gaze on Marin's face. He knew that look - that poised position. Marin was going to run. His odds were not good—Gish would catch up with him in a flash with one of the horses. It wouldn't take much to bring him down. Now. Now was a good time to approach them and make his whereabouts known, before Marin made a witless mistake.

  Lanico came from behind the tree and did not want to seem as if he’d been sneaking up on them, so he announced himself right away: "Marin!" Lanico shouted happily from a small distance, squinting his eyes in a look of pleasure that hid his intent.

  Marin shot-up. "Lanico!" His face brightened, and he tore off toward his father, who raised an arm in greeting to the Mysra to ease his mind.

  The two WynSprigns had never been more than a few hours apart, let alone days. Lanico took Marin into himself. Embracing him, he realized Marin still felt small in his arms—and would likely always be a babe to him.

  "I was so worried about you, Marin. I have been following you both all this time." Still aware of Reluctant Leader on his thigh, Lanico glanced over at an uncertain Gish.

  "I'm so sorry, for getting into trouble―" Marin stepped back, angling his head to look up at him. His tangled nest of hair shifted at the movement, and he tucked it behind an ear.

  "No, it's all right, Marin," Lanico said. "We're here together, and you're safe. That is what matters the most." Lanico pulled him in closer, to hold him; keeping an eye on the Mysra to be certain all was secure.

  "Lanico," Marin said as he backed up once more from their embrace. He looked up. A somber expression slashed across his face. "I have to tell you what happened . . . at Horse's Clearing." Slowly, he increased the distance between them.

  Lanico looked at him with warmth but prepared himself for a feeling of anger. "All right, Marin . . . go ahead," he breathed. I can take it.

  "Well," Marin started, initially hesitant to tell Lanico everything. Then he let it out in a rush: "I heard Trayvor and someone hidden under a cloak with a hood, talking about how they were waiting on news from Odana, at Horse's Clearing"—Marin touched his chest, forgetting the tooth necklace was not there, and he wrung his hands instead—"So I thought I'd follow them, hiding in the trees. But then I fell, just in front of them."

  Lanico's face did not reveal his thoughts. He had already known about Marin's falling but didn’t quite know the reason behind it—now he could picture the scene. “Yes, Marin, please continue.”

  "I remember . . ." Marin thought carefully. He touched his matted head and grimaced at a tender spot. "I remember after I fell, Fenner who was hidden under a gray hood, was looking down at me. After that, everything went black. Then I remember being in an area that was like a small gray mountain—with Gish." He jerked his head toward the Mysra.

  "Gray Rock." Lanico looked over at Gish, who made a slow nod in response.

  “If you traveled by foot, you made it here quickly.” Gish said. It was further confirmation his knowledge of the terrain and lands. “You probably hadn’t stopped much.” They were delayed themselves with the loss of the horse, the fight, and then with the equestrian training.

  “It’s true. I hadn’t really stopped to make camp, but just continued to walk.” He could see the Mysra’s brow raise in rare surprise. The exhaustion should have him collapsing by now, but then again, he was part Fray. Remembering Marin’s story, the importance of what his son was saying, he returned his attention and his focus back on him. "So Marin, you’re saying that Fenner and Trayvor were at Horse's Clearing, meeting with Gish?"

  "Yes," Marin said simply.

  Gish stood slowly and approached, closing the space between them hesitantly. Lanico discreetly grabbed the grip of Reluctant Leader concealed under his cloak, awaiting a possible attack. The air betrayed no evil intent. The Mysra don’t plot, Lanico thought. If they mean to attack, you know it right off.

  The hulking Mysra announced as he neared the pair, "I think you should know that I am Gish, the son of Grude the Mysra leader." His gray skin seemed smooth in the moonlight, which enhanced the curves of his massive, boulder-like muscles.

  Despite the menacing appearance, Lanico looked onto him calmly and released the handle of the sword, but only slightly. "Gish, I am called Lanico." He looked up at the Mysra with a charming smile and noticed how their heights matched. Gish was small for a Mysra and Lanico tall for a WynSprign. At the mention of Lanico’s name, no gleam of recognition showed in the Mysra’s eyes.

  So, he hasn’t heard of me—this was good.

  "Lanico," Gish repeated, shifting his massive weight with a look of unease, "I took the boy at my father's bidding. I have not been in my father's good graces for . . . well, perhaps ever. It seems I have a soft spot for WynSprigns.” He made a hint of a smile that displayed his large pointy teeth. “Conversation with this one”—he continued and gestured toward Marin—"has put me over even further. The boy is in your charge”—he held out his hands in surrender. “My troubles with my father, are my own.”

  "Indeed," Lanico started, not entirely believing his own words as they came out, "we are truly grateful to have you on our side. Knowing a bit about your father, I know he would expect quick obedience, and your journey has been hindered, my tracking indicates. He may have already sent Mysra riders out in search of you."

  "Yes, you are probably right about that,” Gish said. “Other riders will be on the move by now.”

  Marin turned wild-eyed to Lanico. "What . . . what are we going to do?" His voice was high, panic-laced. “Will you return to the Great Mist, to tell them? I—I can't return."

  "All right, be still." Lanico said calmly, setting a hand on the boy’s shoulder, gathering his thoughts about their new reality, of what might yet come.

  "Marin," Lanico began slowly, "it's true that we cannot return to the Great Mist. You have been banished. The Great Mist may not be a safe home for us again in any case—who knows what Trayvor has done?" Lanico leaned down to look at him directly. "However, it's important to realize that we have information that is most critical, and we must act on it. We now understand that the lives of all in the Great Mist are in jeopardy." Lanico paused. "I will go to them, to alert them.” Having set his eyes on the Odana, knowing the WynSprigns had in their leadership agreed to banish his son, it was agonizing to consider returning. If it meant saving even a single innocent WynSprign . . . And perhaps there were more than a few: Stoutwyn, Murah, Joso, and others . . . his thoughts became pliable.

  Lanico continued: “But before I make the trip back, I will make sure that your safety is secured." He glanced at Gish and swallowed. He didn't want to part from Marin, but he rationalized that it would only be temporary.

  Lanico looked off in the direction of the forest. He knew of the helper he had been longing to see for a great many years, who wasn't too far off from this point on the river—perhaps a day’s walk. His Fray mother, his Ama, Greta. He would find lo
dging and safety with her before setting out to warn the WynSprigns of this new information. Perhaps we can persuade Gish to ally further with us. I will let Greta aid in that decision.

  Lanico lowered himself to sit. "We'll stay here tonight, then we'll make for the Odana woods tomorrow." The forest in the distance seemed a dark looming wall that gave a natural feeling of resistance even from where they were.

  Gish began, "If I may, I would like t-to . . . join you, to make a change.”

  Lanico made a slight smile and nodded in response. “You may.” He was confident that Gish was harmless, and even if his present senses betrayed him, he knew he could take out the Mysra if necessary—or if not himself, then the Fray he planned for them to visit could easily manage. "We will awaken before dawn tomorrow to start a small fire and cook any fish we can catch. We'll head southward into the forest, following this river along the foothills of the southeastern section of the mountain range." Well aware of his former kingdom, Lanico knew this side of the mountain range would not have much Mysra traffic, for the veins of trillium ran rich on the other side. "We will walk the horses and ourselves in the river and continue this course until we enter the wooded foothills."

  There wasn’t much else to add after that plan. The small group then quietly ate, settled in for the night. The day would start early enough. Lanico’s azure gaze glowed, flickering to the slumbering Mysra, watching him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Scheme unraveled

  Trayvor was happy to have the familiar weight of gold coins jingling in his pockets again. It had been far too long. In rare good will, he ordered a round of ale for his tavern friends, for they were all his best friends this evening. A few curious souls wondered how he had come by the gold, but only Fenner knew.

  Fenner sat alone by the tavern wall tugging slowly at his pint of ale, looking guilty. No need for his company anymore. Trayvor preferred Fenner's impressionable grandson Freck, who had a quick temper and a thirst for action—qualities he deemed useful.

  Trayvor caught a glance of Fenner leaving the tavern and remained unmoved. He had a business proposition for Fenner's sturdy grandson and little remaining use for Fenner. He was also most willing to pay Freck handsomely. He could tell the ambitious young WynSprign would be more determined to do his bidding than was Fenner. Trayvor did not approve of Fenner's sulking around and his downtrodden mood, especially since he was on the brink of a fabulous opportunity for the Great Mist. No. He chose to let Fenner walk out alone.

  ✽✽✽

  Fenner didn't know what to do that night, or who to talk to. With thoughts as heavy as an anvil, he didn’t want to be alone. He decided to visit Stoutwyn, who wouldn't be pleased with him, but he was also a forgiving soul.

  He walked in a shuffling stride to Stoutwyn's large tree home and rapped at the door. It took a moment before Fenner heard rustling from inside. The curious gaze of Stoutwyn peered from behind his fumbling fingers at the small curtain. When he saw it was Fenner, his gaze visibly soured. He opened the door without a word and glared disapprovingly at him.

  Fenner twittled at his long black beard, searching for words. Stoutwyn rolled his eyes and opened his door wider, stepping aside to let Fenner in. Fenner bowed a little in unspoken thanks. They went into the eating room and sat. The well-used table was laden with cheese and bread crumbs from Stoutwyn's recent dinner. The delicious aroma of Murah’s cooking still teased in the air. Fenner had missed that, the smell of home-cooked meals.

  Stoutwyn, remaining silent, pulled out a chair for himself, and Fenner also sat, following his host's lead. It was the signal for him to start his confession.

  Fenner sighed as he began. "Well," he said, looking down at the bread crumbs. "Trayvor is over at the tavern buying everyone drinks, and blurting on . . . about disciplining Marin and cleaning up the Great Mist—you know, being an enforcer of the rules and all. I—I really didn't want to listen to it anymore, so I thought I'd leave." He took a big breath and the sides of his hands swept against the table surface. "I didn't know where to go or who to talk to, so I came here." Fenner looked up from the small pile of crumbs he had scooped together and studied Stoutwyn with a pleading gaze.

  The angry face of Stoutwyn softened a little. "I'm still mad about what happened, and I'm not going to hide that, Fen."

  Fenner had no argument against this reaction and nodded humbly. “I know Stout.” He said quietly. Stoutwyn eased in his chair and Fenner relaxed, seeing him softening, and felt comfortable enough to confide his secret. “There is more to say.”

  Stoutwyn took in a breath and said, “I’m ready. Go ahead.”

  Fenner unraveled, telling Stoutwyn about the detailed plan to lure Marin to Horse's Clearing, explaining it was meant to catch Marin in the act of breaking the rules, leaving their realm – making Lanico dispondent-perhaps to enough to relinquish his control, or even causing him to leave altogether.

  Stoutwyn sat and puffed away quickly at his floog, obviously infuriated. He listened while nodding to urge Fenner on whenever he paused cautiously. Fenner would resume and explained how their luring happened at just the time a Mysra patrol warrior called Gish, had arrived at Horse's Clearing to discuss business with Trayvor.

  More quick puffs of smoke lifted from Stoutwyn’s floog.

  Trayvor, Fenner explained, was making a partnership with Grude to take the WynSprigns away that had broken the rules and needed to be banished. He had already designed wooden holding cages that he could use for this purpose. In return for WynSprigns, Trayvor would be paid in gold coins. Marin being taken was an unexpected bonus.

  Fenner, now sensing Stoutwyn's anger, stopped.

  "Well . . . go on!" demanded Stoutwyn, his face growing red through clouds of smoke.

  Fenner blinked and continued. He explained that banishing Marin had become paramount to Trayvor, for it meant that Lanico would leave the Great Mist to follow after him, leaving the Great Mist under Trayvor's control. That plan was now a reality.

  Stoutwyn's mouth hung slack at these revelations and Fenner flinched as Stoutwyn’s hand clenched at his side. He seemed a demon himself, smoldering red and glaring, and a wreath of smoke now engulfed him.

  “Do you have any idea what this means?!” Stoutwyn challenged. “One”—he held up the floog in a threatening gesture— “the Mysra now know our general location! Two”—he leaned over and growled into Fenner’s face— “Trayvor, once trustworthy, has proven himself a liar and a scoundrel. Three”—he spoke quietly, going pale— “he is selling WynSprigns as slaves and trying to take over the Great Mist as a sort of King.” Then Stoutwyn rose from his seat, shouting, "How dare he! So Odan help him-!"

  Fenner froze in his chair, gaping. His eyes went glassy as he looked up at Stoutwyn looming over the table.

  Footsteps came bounding from down the hall and Fenner whipped his head around. It was Stoutwyn's wife, Murah.

  "Stout! What's happened?" she called, holding her long knitting needle like a weapon. A look of bewilderment washed over her round face.

  Stoutwyn looked over at her, blinking as he collected himself. He picked up his floog and began puffing again. His voice was lower. "Nothing, Murah. I was a bit upset over"―he stumbled for words and shot a glance at Fenner―"a bit of nothing." She stayed, looking at them both with concern and a little suspicion.

  He measured his tone. "Murah, please return to your knitting. Everything is fine, dear—it's old battle talk, you know." He managed a small smile.

  She was winded and a stray section of gray hair left her bun and swayed beside her face. Her concerned look was replaced with one of extreme annoyance. "Oh, pwhh! Scare the breath from me, will you . . . Bah!" She waved her hand dismissively at them and rounded the corner again, muttering as she walked off down the hall.

  Stoutwyn sat back down quickly, stroking at his gray beard. His chair creaked as he leaned forward, whispering to Fenner: "Listen, we need to figure something out here. C'mon, Fen, I know it's been a while since we dealt wit
h the Mysra ourselves, but do you ever recall them being . . . trustworthy? That Mysra guard now knows our general location. What's to stop him, or other Mysra, for that matter, from returning?"

  "Trayvor set up a plan to give them only the WynSprigns that were misbehaving. They'll take only those," Fenner assured.

  Taking a sarcastic tone Stoutwyn said, "Oooh, sure, Fen . . . sure," and leaned back again. "When was the last time you remember the Mysra being content taking a little bit of anything? Soon they'll want more WynSprigns for their plundering of the purple mountains. It's only a matter of time." Stoutwyn looked worriedly out the small window next to their table, parting the curtain slightly.

  Fenner knew deep down he was right.

  The greatest of the WynSprigns was gone from the Great Mist, and already the cold feeling of unwelcome change lingered in the air. The forces of power had shifted. Trayvor was a dominating personality, manipulative, and calculating. Now that Lanico was gone, it was up to Stoutwyn and Fenner to handle him and keep him in place, and Fenner knew that meant he must just follow Stoutwyn. Neither of them ever had to be in that position before. Lanico had wanted Stoutwyn to keep Trayvor in check, but he never imagined he'd have to. Fenner had come to his senses, and was glad he’d come to Stoutwyn. Now—now they could be in this together.

  "I appreciate you coming here to tell me, Fen. We'll figure this out." Smoke rose from Stoutwyn’s mouth as he spoke. "We have to."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Neglected

  There had been an unspoken understanding that Gish was an easier Mysra guard. It wasn't that Gish was overtly kind to the WynSprigns, but rather he didn't actually harm them and there had never been a hint of threat from him. News of his recent defense of the slave woman was making the rounds in the encampments as quick as wild fire. Now that he was gone, there was fear, understanding the slaves had no protectors at all.