by Rex Hazelton
Elamor, seeing Jeaf's shoulders slump, reached out and lightly touched his forehead while whispering, “Waters be still.” This release of magic caused a portion of her son's strength to return.
You must realize, you are who you are no matter what name you have. Whether you are Oakenfel or Fane J'Shrym, you remain the person you've chosen to be, Elamor added with the thoughts she sent into her son's mind.
Jeaf, his flesh feeling strangely hot, asked, “Surely you don't think I will become the king the prophecies speak of?”
Aryl, after taking another drink of ale and slamming the huge mug down on the heavy table top, replied, “We honestly don't have an answer to that question. But we do know you're Fane J'Shrym!” Wiping his mouth with his shirt sleeve, he added, “Their past and future are yours. It flows through your veins and beats in your heart. So, even if you are not the one, you will be a warrior who will fight by the Chosen Ones' side.”
A sigh of resignation was a precursor to what Aryl said next. “Son, I would spare you from war if I could, but I cannot. But this I can do. I can give you the hope of the prophecy that says:
The people that were lost shall be found,
They will gather to the trumpet's sound.
When a warrior-king will be terribly tried,
The Fane J'Shrym will be found by his side.
Then the breach will be healed,
And Parm Warl revealed.”
Aryl, reaching across the table top, grasped his son's hands in his own. “Jeaf, don't be distressed! You're an Oakenfel and the Oakenfel are Fane'J'Shrym... By taking this name, and others like it, our ancestors hoped to evade Ab'Don's assassins. That's one of the reasons why I came to Nyeg Warl. But more than that, I came here because the men of Ar Warl have lost the will to resist the evil despot. Beyond breaking his laws so they may gain what profit can be found in black-marketing, they do little else. It's a land without vision or hope. But that's not yet the case here. In this place, there are still those who will fight.” Squaring his shoulders as e released his son's hands, he added, “I had to be with these warriors.”
“If this is true, Father, why do we live alone in this forest? Why aren't we living with the warriors you speak of?”
“Son, I won't lie, Ab'Don's reach is felt even here.”
Drawing his hands away from the table top, those calloused through hours of working with metal and flame, Aryl replied, “Koyer is waging a campaign to rewrite history. The old stories are becoming fainter as each summer passes. Today, with the fear of the Archan all but dead, each king is engrossed in his own interests.” The Master Swordsmith's eyes narrowed as he got to the crux of the matter. “I'm not interested in establishing the glory of a single kingdo, nor do I wish to get involved in petty squabbling. I'm here to repair the Breach so that Parm Warl can come. To do this, I decided that I must not be caught up in politics. There are many others who are like me. We call ourselves Woodswane. Even you know yourself to be a Woodswane. As such, we are devoted to all the rulers living in Nyeg Warl. We are a kingdom without a king, but are friends and allies to all.”
Altering the rhythm of his speech, Aryl added words having greater gravity due to the deliberate pace with which they were dispensed. “Son… for now… I only ask that you ponder all your mother and I have told you… But I warn you… Let no one who you do not trust with your life know you are Fane J'Shrym.”
With this having been said, Elamor uttered a Word of Power and extinguished all but one candle's light. And in the calm that followed, she quietly intoned, “We will talk in the morning... You must sleep now so you will have strength for the journey.”
Respecting his mother's wishes, Jeaf climbed into the loft and lay down upon the thick goose down mattress resting upon his bed. With the sounds of earnest conversation wafting upward, like steam rising from a loaf of hot bread, sleep came to him more easily than he expected.
Chapter 3: The Journey Begins
Awakened from sleep, Jeaf heard his mother packing the provisions he would need for the journey. Smelling robust grains boiling in a black kettle hanging in the fireplace, he lifted his head and noticed that the breakfast table had already been set. Aryl, seated before the morning's fare, was earnestly giving attention to pulling his boots on.
Descending from the loft, after offering a mumbled, Good morning, Jeaf stumbled across the wooden floor and outside to the water trough where he dunked his head. While wringing out his shoulder length hair, the young Woodswane looked back through the doorway and watched his parents busying themselves. A smile crossed his face when he heard his father cursing his boots. Like children refusing to eat their spinach, they stubbornly resisted his attempts to put his feet into them.
A cool pine-scented breeze, swirling through the verdant forest, washed over Jeaf. Lifting his face to savor the fragrance the gentle wind carried, the crisp snap of a branch being broken interrupted his reverie. Turning around, peering into the shadows laying beneath the greenwood, he thought he saw something moving behind a tree, something big, big like a bear.
What was that? He thought as he looked about for a weapon. Picking up an iron rod laying nearby, Jeaf clutched the piece of metal his father used to stoke the workshop's fires as he strode off into the trees. But before he had gone far, his mother called him to breakfast using words laced with magic that stopped him in his tracks.
Mustering enough strength to resist Elamor's voice, at least partially so, Jeaf extended his Powers of Intuition into the graying morning, trying to sense what it was he had seen. After failing to feel anything threatening, he kicked a nearby pine cone with his bare foot and turned around while mumbling something about dumb bears.
Still wondering why his mother had used her Candle Maker powers to call him to something as ordinary as breakfast, Jeaf, after closing the front door, exclaimed, “I think I saw a bear prowling near the house.”
Surprised by the apathy his parents displayed, he shrugged his shoulders as if to say, If you don't care, I don't care. Then he too began pulling his socks and boots on.
After tucking his shirt into his brown leather pants and then tucking his pants into his knee high boots, Jeaf threw a matching leather vest on and settled down at the table.
Filling his bowl with freshly cooked grains, he added large dollops of honey and butter before drenching the whole thing in milk. After his father passed him a slice of heavy brown bread that his mother had made the day before, Jeaf proceeded to spread a generous portion of crushed blackberries over it. Noticing they all appeared to be hungry he knew conversation would have to wait.
Washing the food down with spiced water, they smiled warmly at one another as they breakfasted, and each was left to their own thoughts.
The fragrant aroma of pipe smoke marked the end of the meal. Jeaf took note of this, for his father never smoked until evening. The uncharacteristic behavior informed the young Woodswane that the morning's events were important. So he stretched forth his Powers of Intuition and began probing his parents' emotions: his father exuded a sense of determination and resolve; his mother's penetrating intuition collided with his own, negating his ability to read her mood and mind. Anxious to be on his way, Jeaf hoped they would conclude the previous evening's conversation soon. So he stood and helped his mother clean up while his father continued enjoying his pipe.
In time, Elamor, who had just put up the last of the wooden bowls, was the first to speak. “I've finished packing for you.” She pointed to a large leather pouch laying beside the front door. “Remember, after you deliver my package to Illumanor, pay heed to all that he tells you.” Pausing for affect, she added, “Make certain you talk to him.”
With these words spoken, she hugged and kissed her son saying, “I love you.”
Surprised that his parents didn't continue last evening's conversation, the young Woodswane watched his mother hurry over to a nearby shelf. Taking down two more candles, those that he could have for his personal use, Elamor placed them into the lea
ther pouch alongside the carefully wrapped package Jeaf was supposed to Illumanor.
Aryl, after emptying his pipe, rose to his feet. Crossing the room, he placed his hands on his son's shoulders and said, “I'm proud of you!” Pulling Jeaf close, the elder Oakenfel hugged him tightly. Then in one sweeping motion, he lifted his son off of the ground and the two laughed together just like they had a thousand times before.
Lowering Jeaf to his feet, Aryl slapped his son's back and reached for the sword he had made for the Eagle King. “Be careful with this,” he chided Jeaf. “I'd like to see Cane get it in one piece.”
A wave of emotion, exuding both dignity and honor, swept out from the father and over the son as he added an admonition. “Make certain you afford him your best behavior, for he's a great king.”
Then taking a parchment from his belt, Aryl handed it to his son, along with the sword he had carefully placed into the thick leather sheath he used for transporting his wares. “Present this to the Eagle King at the same time you give him the sword.”
Jeaf shook his head in acknowledgment. Then taking the scroll from his father's hand, he quickly tucked it into the leather pouch he had already hoisted onto his shoulder.
“Tell him that he can read it at his leisure, at a time when he's alone.”
“Father, why don't you go? Won't the king be offended at your absence?” The young Woodswane had asked this question before. Though he didn't really expect Aryl's answer to be any different this time, he couldn't help making his inquiry, one more time. Just to be absolutely certain, he told himself.
“The king is aware that your mother and I don't do anything lightly. He'll know we have our reasons for not coming.” Aryl spoke reassuringly. “You must go alone. Your mother has foreseen this in a dream.”
Your father is right! Elamor spoke directly into Jeaf's mind. The honor of this task is yours, not ours. I'm not certain why this is so. But I am certain of what I saw in my night vision. The Candle Maker put her hand on her son's shoulder. The dream that you had yesterday only confirms my feelings in this matter.
Mother, Jeaf responded with his own thought-speech, if this is the way it must be, then I'll represent both of you as best I can.
I know. Elamor leaned over and kissed her son on the cheek. Your father and I have no fears in trusting you with this.
With his own sword hanging from his side and the pouch pushed to his back, Jeaf stood holding the gifts he was being sent to deliver. After nodding his head, acknowledging his mother's thoughts, he said out loud, “Well, I guess I'm ready. See you in eight or nine days.”
“Son, are you sure you won't take Ran or Ansil?” Aryl was referring to the two horses sheltered in the barn.
“No, not with what you told me about Koyer and the interest he has in you. I want and Mother and you to be able to get away as fast as possible if trouble shows up.”
“We have other ways of escaping as you know.”
“Yes. But I'd feel better if you had the horses with you. I'll be fine traveling on foot. By myself I can hide better than the two of you and can travel nearly as fast as you can, riding double.”
While his words still hung in the air, not waiting for a reply, the young Woodswane stepped out the door and headed north towards the Eyrie of the Eagle.
Then, just before he moved out of sight, Aryl shouted, “Don't go tripping over any bears.”
Remembering what had happened early that morning, Jeaf hesitated, wondering if his father was playfully mocking him. But his blood was already up for the trip. So, after dismissing his father's words with a smile, he inhaled a large breath of pine-scented air and headed for the lush greenwood. Turning sharply left once he passed the building his father used as both his workshop and barn, Jeaf plunged beneath the bough of a large oak tree and disappeared into the early shadows spreading across the forest floor.
Relishing the adventure that lay ahead of him, Jeaf had always considered a trip to the Eyrie of the Eagle as something special. It was a place tantalizingly full of all kinds of colors, sounds, and new experiences. Visitors came from all parts of Nyeg Warl: men with dark brown skin, fearsome looking warriors covered with tattoos, soldiers wearing colorful uniforms that identified the various realms they served, and merchants from the farthest reaches of the warl could be found there. But of all the wonders that he knew awaited him, Jeaf looked forward to sampling the delicious food and drink the street peddlers had to sell.
The thought that he might see a giant, like he had on his last visit, only added fuel to the fire of his excitement. A circus was passing through town at that time. The memory of the cast of characters he saw then caused Jeaf to quicken his pace down the path winding its way through the dense forest. With eyes sparkling- while pictures of fire eaters, jugglers and acrobats danced through his head- he laughed at the memory of the bearded woman and promised himself, if the circus were still in the Eyrie of the Eagle, that he would give her whiskers a tug to see if they were real or not. Yet, the thing that he most wanted to see again was the Eagle King's castle.
Though the great city that had grown up around the fortress came to be known as the Eyrie of the Eagle, it was, in fact, the magnificent fortress Cane's great great grandfather, Cayrn, had built that was originally given this name. Those fortunate enough to have seen the royal castle, admitted that it was appropriately labeled. Built on a massive spire of stone, the breathtaking location was sufficient in itself to have the name Eyrie of the Eagle affixed to it. Located higher in the mountains than most fortresses, it seemed a place where eagles would dwell. Not so ironically, the area was renowned for the many magnificent birds of prey making their homes in the Thangmor Mountains' rocky heights that nearly encircled Eagle's Vale making it impervious to assault, save an attack coming from the northeast.
The great edifice, having been constructed out of the same golden hued granite that was native to the area, made the spire of rock and the fortress nearly indistinguishable from one another. Built on the Thangmor Mountains' eastern slopes, it naturally caught the first rays of daylight. Reflecting the sun's glory, people often remarked that it looked like a gigantic crown and the city that swept out from its base looked like the train of a royal robe.
The magnificent metropolis that mushroomed up around the castle, filled most of Eagle's Vale. A fifth of its expanse lay west of the Eyrie of the Eagle, while the remainder flowed eastward until it spilled out of the Thangmor Mountains.
The renowned institution of learning, the School of the Candle, was built on the same imposing spire of stone, near to the king's castle. Here Elamor had studied and it was here that Aryl had beaten on the school's heavy wooden doors, pursuing love so many summers before. Illumanor, the one to whom Jeaf would give his mother's candle, was the master of the Holy Order that ran the school.
In the valley's steep western reaches, five mountain streams called the Daughters of Thangmor converged to form the Eyrie River. Surging through the vale and the city that had grown up there, the river ran eastward until it took a sharp southwardly turn flowing around the mountain range's eastern edge. Passing through the strip of fertile farmland, separating the Cragmar Mountains from the Thangmors, it continued its journey to the distant Largryk Sea.
The Valamor, as the people living in Eagle's Vale were called, were renowned, among other things, for their works of art. The other kingdoms of Nyeg Warl, who believed these treasures were blessed with the magic of tranquility and prosperity, traded food and textiles for the finely crafted wares created using the mediums of wood, stone and star's blood... Ah, star's blood! The Eyrie of the Eagle was the guardian of Nyeg Warl's sole source of the fabulous treasure. This reddish hued metal, more precious than gold, was stronger than steel. Legend said that star's blood came from the Singer's wounds, spilling forth as he labored to form the Thangmor Mountains, blood that turned into the precious metal once it fell among the sharp rocks that had drawn it forth.
Scarce as it was valuable, the veins of star's blood w
ere barely detectable to the trained eye. Running through stone like rivulets of liquid, it was the most-costly substance found in Nyeg Warl, more-costly than gemstones weighing many times its weight. Thus, Jeaf, aware that the magnificent sword he carried had star's blood forged into it, was honored to be entrusted with such a valuable gift.
****
The morning was nearly past when the young Woodswane found himself struggling to break through the scrub oak overgrowing the trail he was traveling on. “Burn it to ashes!” Jeaf swore at the branches that trespassed the footpath's borders.
Not long after having passed this obstacle, while topping a nearby hill, the young Woodswane was startled to hear a much louder ruckus, than the one he had made, coming from the same scrub oak he had just wrestled with. Stirred up by this noise, the memory of Ayrl's teasing word's about not tripping over a bear nipped at his mind, motivating him to hurry and put some distance between himself and the source of the fracas. Yet, no matter how fast he went, an occasional sound of a breaking branch, or some such thing, could be heard trailing behind. Other times, he heard what he guessed were stones being kicked loose to scuttle along the forest path and off into the underbrush. It was one of the later episodes that helped Jeaf make up his mind to find out who, or what, was making the worrisome racket. Pressed by the importance of his mission, knowing the danger it might stir up if nefarious sorts found out about it, the young Woodswane quickly formulated what he believed to be a simple yet effective plan. Since a lunch break was overdue, he thought he would find a large tree to climb into where he could safely eat his meal and watch the trail all at the same time. So, sizing up the trees growing around him, and picking out a large oak standing nearby, Jeaf scrambled up branches as bent and knotted as an old man's fingers. Though he knew bears could climb, he figured he could climb higher still. Comforted by this thought, he settled down on a large bough. Leaning back against the trunk's rough bark, Jeaf took out a pouch of dried fruit, nuts, and grains and began anxiously crunching away.
