Cedron inhaled deeply. The pungent bitterness of juniper now mixed with the sweet grasses of the plains they were leaving behind as they ascended higher into the foothills. The chittering sounds of burrowing rodents that had been his constant companion during the trek across the grasslands had been replaced by those who made their homes in the tops of the trees.
Cedron saw a colorful display of feathers amidst the swaying tree tops and squinted to identify the species, but it moved too quickly for him to follow. He knew that large, predatory birds also inhabited the trees of the dense forest, but all he could see currently were the pesky little twillings that seemed so fascinated by the two travelers and flitted overhead constantly.
The boy and his uncle had already been on the move for a fortnight and their goal was just a couple more days ahead. Cedron’s insides twisted as they continued inexorably closer to their destination; the knot extending deep into his bowels. By tomorrow night, given their current pace and continued good weather, they’d be high into the mountains and back to their home in Dulnat.
Cedron had resigned himself to never seeing his beloved city again, but the official summons could not be denied. After only three short years of exile, Cedron’s father Kasuin Varkaras, the Regent of Dulnat, had experienced a change of heart. Cedron wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t trust this unexpected reversal. Nor did he believe his Uncle Roven’s suggestion that perhaps the people of Dulnat had forgotten.
Cedron squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying to dismiss the unbidden image that floated before him. Dark waves of angry faces tossed before him on seas of fear and revulsion, all clamoring for his destruction as an abomination. A return to Dulnat would be as good as signing his own writ of execution. Yet Cedron couldn’t bring himself to believe that his father would put him at such a great risk. After all, it was only by his father’s love and rapid decision to banish his son that saved Cedron’s life in the first place.
His Uncle Roven had been his only companion in the years since and had proven to be both a caring mentor and capable protector. Cedron knew, despite appearances to the contrary, that Roven wouldn’t heed the summons if the danger was too great. However, Cedron had noticed that the closer they got to Dulnat, the jitterier his uncle became, starting at the various sounds in the woods.
The slender lad glanced over at the older man walking next to him, unbent and vigorous after so many long days of traversing the thick undergrowth of the Ginaya Forest, then the ceaseless waving grasses of the Rabeen Plains. Lord Shamar’s brilliant rays shone down on the pair as the daytime deity arched across the clear blue sky, causing the older man’s silver hair and translucent skin to gleam in the light.
Cedron noticed the sunken cheeks and the increased looseness of the billowing shirt, but his uncle remained silent to the hardship their pace extracted from him. I wonder how long he will be able to keep up this rate without collapsing. Cedron shook his head slightly, observing his uncle from under his wheaten bangs. Remarkably, Roven’s breath wasn’t labored as he planted his boots solidly in the sloping terrain.
Puffs of dirt swirled around their boots, sticking to their skin in the day’s dry heat. Cedron was sweating uncomfortably and wiped the powdery grit from his eyes. He unclasped his traveling cloak and hastily stowed it in his pack, jogging to catch up to his uncle, who refused to ease his long stride.
Their journey west from the Ginaya Forest of Samshaeli, the land of his mother’s people where they’d spent most of the past three years, would normally take a full month, particularly in this hot season of Suntide. The heat coupled with the lack of consistent water other than the Akaradan River, which they could only follow for part of their journey, kept them in danger of dehydration and exhaustion.
Cedron realized that at their current speed, they’d be home in just over half that time, if they survived the passes. Why is he pushing so fast? The festival of Narsham-Vu isn’t for several more days, and my presence isn’t even required until the end.
Cedron paused to stretch his back. He glanced sidelong at his uncle who continued on, oblivious. The boy’s moss green eyes reflected the soft greens of the dale as he scanned the surrounding hills.
“The Inn at Lake Julani would be a nice place to rest and bathe before presenting ourselves at the festival, don’t you think?” Cedron asked, catching up to Roven.
The old man cocked an eyebrow, and then cleared into a blank expression. “Wouldn’t you prefer the warm baths and fresh clothes from the castle?”
Cedron shrugged. He had certainly missed the hot water piped into the baths he’d enjoyed in Dulnat. It beat bathing in the chilly Akaradan River, especially during Dormantide when ice rimmed the shallows. More than once he’d had to run through the forest just to get the circulation back into his numbed extremities, completely wasting the point of the swim.
The extensive cave system where the two had spent the last three years of exile was deep in the Ginaya Forest and ideally located near a portion of the river that was wider and deeper, making it very cold. Although Roven assured his nephew that it was the best bathing in Samshaeli, the lad had begun to think that his uncle had a warped sense of humor.
Cedron’s grandmother had dug out the pool along the bank for bathing and washing during her own exile. Cedron shook his head and smiled grimly. How is it that my mother’s family is so full of malcontents…and criminals? Had their crimes been as serious as mine…or their punishment as unjust?
Cedron watched another pair of brown twillings fly by, dodging and circling each other in the sky as they hunted the insects that would feed the young still bound to the nest. They were still beautiful to watch, even if they didn’t have the bright, jeweled colors of their brethren in Samshaeli.
Similarly, the shimmering hair and translucent skin of the pair of travelers set them equally apart from the swarthy inhabitants of the lands they now entered. And I’m as good as dead if I go through with this. The Askari will never accept me.
Cedron shuddered and wiped his damp hands on his trousers. Visions of being stoned to death by an angry mob returned to his mind. Even the Harmolin Legion, Askari-Barre’s peacekeepers, wouldn’t step in for one such as him.
Cedron adjusted his pack on his shoulders, hitching it up higher so that it didn’t cut into the spare bit of flesh that covered them. He sighed heavily.
“This is a mistake.”
Roven stopped and turned around, facing the lad. His piercing blue eyes bore deep into Cedron’s, causing the youth to cast his eyes downward.
“I thought you were excited to be headed home to your father. You know he’s going to formally name you his heir. Why the second thoughts?” Roven asked, walking back to where the boy had un-slung his pack.
“I don’t know. It’s just that…” Cedron was distracted by a large raptor circling above the trees higher in the hills above them. It swooped down out of the sky and grasped one of the chittering rodents from a branch where it cowered. He shuddered in empathy for the helpless creature being carried high over the trees in the raptor’s claws.
“It’s just that it’s happening so fast. I’m only 15 and…well…after the “incident”…everyone wanted me dead. Suddenly father is making me heir to the Regency…I just don’t understand.”
“Neither do I,” Roven frowned. “However, things do change with time. Perhaps there is more to this than we now know.”
Behind them, Cedron heard a crack. Roven’s eyes darted toward the noise, his muscles tensing. Cedron followed his uncle’s gaze and held his breath. Is someone following us? The implications filled Cedron’s mind. It would explain the grueling pace that his uncle had insisted they keep. Coldness crept into his neck and shoulders despite the heat as the thought of who might be pursuing them filled his mind.
Seconds after the initial cracking of the branch, a pair of feral yellow eyes gleamed at them from the depths of the underbrush. Cedron’s heart leapt into his throat. What is that thing? The lad’s eyes jumped from the crouching beast to his uncle, who was staring intently at the creature. Cedron heard a low growl from the bushes and the yellow eyes blinked and turned away.
Cedron exhaled slowly and shook his head. His uncle’s ability to empathize with animals had probably saved them from more than this particular encounter. It wasn’t a flashy or exciting ability as far as Shaeli talents go, but it certainly came in handy around hungry predators.
The old man winked and motioned for Cedron to shoulder his pack. “Well, that was exciting. Now, if we hurry, we may be able to catch the caravan before they reach the city.”
Cedron’s eyes lit up. “Really? Aren’t they in Tamona this time of year?” He quickly adjusted his straps and hurried after his uncle.
Roven kept marching, leading them higher into the foothills. The juniper gave way to ferns, filling more of the open spaces between thickening aspen and birch, precursors to the evergreens that rimmed the higher elevations. The old man stroked his silvery beard absentmindedly for a few moments as they walked.
“The caravan is returning from Tamona and should arrive in Dulnat about the same time we do. I hope to meet with Caravan Master Cherak before the ceremony.”
Cedron blinked. Why would the caravan change its century-old schedule…and how had Uncle Roven known about it? Their exile had been complete, as far as he had known, with no communication from Dulnat. Even the Council of Elders in Samshaeli hadn’t known of their presence as they kept their exiled existence quiet.
As much as Cedron was excited about the thought of catching up with the caravan and seeing his best friend Dariun, the idea that Roven had kept secrets from him was disturbing. What else is he keeping from me?
“How do you know this, uncle?” Cedron asked, peering at the old man’s face to detect any duplicity.
Roven kept walking. Staring straight ahead, he finally answered. “There have been rumors of Hinaek moving down from the north and into the marshlands near Tamona. Master Cherak and your father thought it would be safer to have the caravan regroup in Dulnat before deciding on a safer route.”
Cedron nodded and kept walking, pondering the news. If the Hinaek were moving south, then Dulnat could also be a target. His heart beat a little faster. Perhaps father is formally announcing me as his heir because of the threat to the city. If Dulnat were overrun with the monstrous Hinaek tribes, father could be killed; he would need an heir to salvage his people.
Cedron swallowed against the bile that rose in his throat. He’d already lost his mother. Even though he had been a small child at the time, her loss was still keenly felt. To lose his father was more than he could fathom in his short life. It was one thing to be exiled and away from his home and kin, but it was another entirely to know that they were gone from this world.
“Is Dulnat at risk? That’s why father is bringing me back for the ceremony, isn’t it? In case he’s killed in battle?” Cedron asked.
“The Hinaek are not necessarily headed to Dulnat. Ours is a small city, hardly worth their effort. What’s more concerning is why they’re on the move in the first place,” Roven puffed as he lunged up the steep slope of a hill. “I’m sure your father has his own reasons for recalling us home.”
“Yes, to name me as his heir. But why now?” Cedron threw up his arms in exasperation.
Roven shrugged. “I am not privy to that information. I only have the summons. I’m sure Kasuin will fill us in on the details once we reach Dulnat.”
Cedron stomped his feet hard into the soft moss and ferns of the knoll he was climbing. It felt good to let some of the tension from his fear and uncertainty bleed out the bottoms of his boots and into the ground where Lady Muralia could recycle it into useful energy.
Roven had always taught him to release his negative energy as quickly as possible to prevent it from building up dangerously inside him. Cedron had learned the hard way about the destructive powers he had at his command. Roven had worked diligently with him over the past few years at controlling both his emotions and his energy to prevent another mishap.
Lord Shamar’s rays turned deep golden as the deity lowered himself from the sky to begin his evening repose. Shadows grew longer and the two weary travelers began to slow their exhaustive march. Pine trees now dotted the hills as they continued into the gathering dusk.
Cedron inhaled deeply, enjoying the musky scent of the mosses that grew thickly between the trees and continued to calm his mind. He felt the anxiety and fear wash through and exit his body as the thumping in his chest quieted to a normal beat.
As his mind cleared, Cedron realized with a sharp jolt that his uncle had cleverly ignored his earlier question. Roven must have been in communication with someone in the caravan, but with whom? Although many in the caravan had access to magical artifacts, only one had any innate ability and she couldn’t dream weave or scry. The more Cedron pondered it, the more curious he became.
“How did you know about the caravan changing their schedule?” he asked, as Roven set his pack down in a clearing beneath a fairly large oak tree and surveyed the area.
The elder began gathering fist-sized river rocks from the Akaradan River, ever their guide, and motioned for Cedron to help him. They stuffed the rocks in the loose hems of their shirts, making pouches for carrying the heavy stones back to their camp.
Cedron dumped his rocks into a pile and waited expectantly while Roven placed them in a circle for their fire. Cedron threw small branches and twigs from the area into the circle while Roven shaved the dry bark from one of the few trees lining the river. The old man took the shavings and placed them under the twigs.
“Cedron, would you mind?” he asked, indicating the lad should start the fire.
Cedron looked at the mound of firewood and back to his uncle. A smile played at his lips.
“How about you answer my question first?” he grinned.
Roven’s head jerked up at the impertinence. He glared at Cedron for a moment, and then chuckled. Cedron knew his uncle had just realized that he’d been outmaneuvered. Roven combed his fingers through his beard before answering, his eyes twinkling in the fading light.
“Very well. I was contacted by Sarohra. She is working on a new method of scrying.”
“Really? What is she using?” Cedron asked.
Roven shook his head and pointed at the fire. Cedron shrugged and squatted down next to the ring. He closed his eyes. Reaching deep within himself, he felt the flow of energy that coursed through his body and pictured the crackling fire in his mind.
Heat rose through his chest and poured down his arms and into his hands. Opening his eyes, he held his palm towards the fire pit and whispered, “Maftah.” Instantly, the flames began licking at the shaved wood, crackling merrily and filling Cedron’s nose with the acrid scent of burning sap. Cedron sat back on his haunches and blew gently on the flames until they reached a satisfactory level.
“I believe she is using some form of aqua stone, but I’m not entirely sure. Our conversation was short and seemed to cause her a lot of discomfort and energy,” Roven said, sitting cross-legged next to Cedron.
Cedron nodded. If anyone could figure out a way to communicate using stones, it would be the gem-cutter Sarohra. She was brilliant at enhancing the natural properties of the gems she worked with. Her artifacts and jewelry were in high demand throughout Muralia’s many lands. He wondered at her heritage, for her ability to work with stones was a Tawali trait.
Cedron knew that it was only because his grandmother was Tawali that he had the ability to manipulate terra and rocks himself. The Askari didn’t hold much for mixing the races, so asking Sarohra about any mixed blood would be inappropriate. Cedron knew that it was only because his father’s family was the renowned Varkaras line that the occasional indiscretion with foreigners was tolerated.
“I can’t wait to see what Sarohra’s come up with,” Cedron mused as he pulled the dried meat and roots from his pouch. He offered some to Roven who declined.
“Would you like me to get the water?” the boy started to get up.
Roven waved him down and grabbed both water skins. “I’ll be right back. You keep the fire going…it looks like another clear and cold night approaching.”
Cedron glanced into the skies where the first moon daughter, red Orwaena, was just making her appearance above the hills. Her early crimson light melded with her father’s retreating golden hues turning the cloudless sky into a brilliant display of color. Golds and reds crashed into swaths of orange as the deities briefly collaborated on the aerial canvas. Cedron could see the first early stars peeping through the wash of golden-red, twinkling at him from their distant perches.
The rest of their celestial brethren would make their appearance before Orwaena’s sisters, blue Azria and violet Hamra would complete their dance across the heavens. Cedron pulled the woolen blanket from his pack and laid it on the ground. The air was still warm as they hadn’t climbed very high into the mountains yet, but the temperature would drop quickly once Lord Shamar’s light was extinguished from the skies.
Roven returned with the full water skins and tossed one to Cedron, who caught it neatly with one hand.
“I see your reflexes haven’t slowed despite being away from Dariun these past three years,” Roven teased his nephew.
“Some skills are just ingrained with years of practice,” Cedron laughed as he grabbed three small stones from around the fire. He began juggling them high in the air.
“Toss me another,” he said to Roven as the circle in front of him went higher. Roven tossed two rocks at him in rapid succession. Cedron didn’t miss a beat incorporating them into his display. “This is harder when things are coming at me from two directions, but we don’t need to go there tonight!”
Roven watched with a slight smile on his face as the boy continued to display his juggling prowess. “What about a couple burning branches?”
“That would impress Dariun, wouldn’t it?”
Cedron grunted as he struggled to get the flaming branch Roven tossed his way into the circle of flying objects.
“More!” he yelled at his uncle, dropping the stones sequentially as more flaming sticks entered the fray.
Cedron focused on the flaming branches and spinning them faster and faster in front of him. Once they reached the point that they resembled a solid flaming sphere, he closed his eyes and dropped his arms. He felt the Akashi flow through him, burning slightly on the palms of his hands as he released his energy outward.
Using only his mind and the ability he was born with, he kept the flaming circle spinning for several more moments before clapping his hands together and extinguishing the fire. The scorched sticks dropped harmlessly to the ground. Cedron picked them up gingerly and tossed them into the fire pit.
Roven nodded solemnly. “Yes, Dariun would be impressed, as am I. Your control of fire has really improved. You should be proud of your progress, Cedron.”
The lad grinned ruefully at the scars on his hands and forearms. “Not without some sacrifice though. Having Askari blood helps, but it’s left its mark. Air will be much tougher…especially learning to fly!”
Roven clicked his tongue. “One step at a time. It’s a marvel that you can manipulate it at all, let alone harnessing the winds enough to levitate.”
Cedron cocked his head to one side and gave a faint smile. “You’re right, but for whatever reason, I have the ability…and I’m not going to waste it.”
Cedron sprang onto the log lying across the side of the campsite and grabbed a low-lying branch from the tree under which they had built their fire. He swung himself up easily and balanced on the narrow branch. Closing his eyes, he spread his arms out wide and blew.
The wind rose into a small cyclone just beneath him. Leaves and small branches flew into the whirling wind causing Roven to cry out and cover his eyes. Cedron took a deep breath and stepped out into the top center of the spiral that reached to just below the branch he was standing on.
Roven peeked through slitted eyes as his nephew fell through the center of the cyclone to the ground and collapsed. The wind died down, scattering the resultant flotsam throughout the campsite.
Roven rushed to the boy’s side. “Laylur’s beast! Cedron, are you hurt…is anything broken?”
Cedron lay flat on his back and groaned. He opened his eyes and gasped for breath, reaching for his uncle’s shirt. Grasping the fabric with his fists, he pulled his uncle closer.
“I think I broke it.”
“What?”
“My backside.”
Roven scanned his body. “Why do you think that?”
“Because I’ve got a crack in my butt!” Cedron said in a ragged whisper.
Roven’s worried expression cleared as he burst out laughing. “Oh, is that all? And here I always thought you were a perfect ass!”
Cedron grinned sheepishly as he rolled over and slowly got to his feet. He rubbed his backside gingerly, the bruises beginning to swell from the hard landing.
“Guess I still need to work on that one. Did you notice that the wind was stronger? This time I didn’t break anything.”
“True, and that’s great,” Roven said with his hands on his hips as he surveyed the mess. “But you’ve blown out the fire. First rule in showing off is to make sure you impress more and damage less.”
Cedron meekly began picking up the sticks to rebuild the smoldering embers into a usable flame. “I still think Dariun will like it. Do you think we’ll catch up with the caravan tomorrow then?”
“Perhaps,” Roven tossed an armful of twigs and branches into the fire.
Cedron whooped loudly and jumped into the air, grinning from ear to ear. He had really missed his friend during his exile and nothing could dampen his excitement at seeing him again.
They had been alone almost the entire duration of their imposed exile. Only the brief and clandestine visit of Roven’s brother Rabin and his youngest daughter Lania had broken the monotony of their isolation. Lania had chosen to serve the Shaeli as a Guardian of Aurevya, the tree of life and source of Akashi.
Only the most magically powerful Shaeli had the skills to serve the ancient tree and her status represented a high honor among the Shaeli nobility. Rabin, his wife and four older daughters served as Sumari, the elite warriors that guarded Samshaeli’s borders. Although Lania had been thrilled with her success at the trials, her mother and sisters had been less than enthusiastic.
In the end, it was her father that escorted her on her long journey from their home in Suriyah, the capital of Samshaeli, to Sulari in the Ginaya Forest where the Guardians of Aurevya made their home. The brief interaction with other Shaeli, not to mention one who looked up to him as an older cousin, had done wonders for Cedron’s loneliness, but it wasn’t the same as seeing his best friend.
Cedron flopped down next to his uncle in front of the fire and drank deeply from the water skin offered him. He was exhausted from the forced marches and dancing around the fire in anticipation of the next day’s meeting. Cedron wiped his face with his sleeve and inhaled deeply.
“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” he sighed, gazing up at the stars blanketing the heavens in the clear twilit sky.
“It is, but it will be over all too quickly,” Roven clapped him on the shoulder. “Get some sleep.”
Roven slid under his blanket and rolled over with his face away from the fire. Cedron watched the stars for a few moments more. He spied the faint blue light as the second moon daughter Azria crested the trees on the horizon, following her vermillion sister in their nightly pattern across the Muralian sky.
Hugging himself in anticipation of the reunion promised by the eve of the following day, Cedron rolled himself in his blanket and closed his eyes, unsure how long it would take for sleep to finally reach him.
***
The last vestiges of the third moon daughter Hamra’s plum-colored light hovered along the western horizon as Cedron felt his uncle’s hand on his shoulder waking him. Pale streaks of Lord Shamar’s golden rays were just climbing into the eastern sky as he bade his violet daughter farewell.
Yawning and stretching to shake the sleepiness from his body, Cedron got up and quickly rolled his blanket and arranged his pack. The embers of the fire had long since died out, but Cedron watched his uncle stomp on them anyway to ensure that no residual flames remained. The Shaeli avoided destruction of the land in any way and would never risk leaving even the tiniest spark that could flare later.
“Would you like me to clear up the campfire with my vortex?” Cedron asked, his hands already preparing the magic.
Roven held his hand up, signaling for him to wait. Digging in his pouch, the old man brought out a pale yellow sphene crystal and handed it to Cedron.
“Try focusing the wind through the air stone. It will give you more control. Try just moving the rocks back to the river and clearing up all traces of the fire without damaging all the flora within a 100 foot radius, would you?” the old man grinned.
Cedron rolled his eyes and held the crystal in front of him. He closed his eyes and focused on the air stone’s properties. In his mind, he felt the stirring of the Akashi magic from deep within his body. He focused on the stone and felt the cool breeze of air gently caressing his hands.
Holding his palm open, he felt the stone capture and direct the gently swirling breeze. He envisioned the wind lifting the river rocks around the fire pit and smiled slightly as they rose gently into the slow-moving vortex. Ha! The old bugger was right; it is easier to control when focused through a stone!
Cedron sent a mental prayer of gratitude to his Tawali grandmother. He guided the small cyclone of stones and assorted small sticks and leaves towards the river, where he released the stone’s energy once it hovered a few feet from shore. The river rocks dropped instantly to the bottom, leaving the rest as flotsam on the surface of the river.
“Well done,” Roven clapped the lad on the shoulder. “Your Tawali blood is the key, I think. If you can access the other elements through stones, you may have a way to control your Akashi after all.”
Cedron handed the sphene crystal back to his uncle and sighed. “Yeah, I just wish…” Cedron slumped his shoulders.
Roven gripped his shoulder and squeezed gently. “I know, Cedron. I know.”
The two shouldered their packs and struck out due northward, leaving the Akaradan River and heading straight into the Monhadi Mountain range. Cedron glanced back over his left shoulder and saw the twin peaks of Zahir and Zohar rising into the deep blue sky. The Tadim Pass that ran between those enormous peaks would have been an easier route, but it would have added time to their journey.
Cedron kept up with Roven’s brutal pace without complaint, knowing that every step brought him closer to his best friend and ally. Their pace slowed a little as the steep terrain took them higher where the air was thinner. After being raised in the high mountains, the dense almost palpable air of the Ginaya Forest had taken a lot of getting used to. After three years of feeling as if he was breathing solid air, Cedron inhaled deeply, enjoying the freedom in his chest as they continued northward on their trek.
Lord Shamar had already reached his zenith when the two reached the shores of Lake Julani and the last leg of their journey. The two weary travelers joined an extended family of weavers who were loading their wagon full of cloth onto the ferry to cross the lake. The monstrous towren stomped and blew in the warm air, their chains jangling against the sides of their harnesses.
Cedron and Roven skirted around the wagon, carefully avoiding the dangerous horns that protruded from either side of the steel grey bovines’ muzzles and behind each pointed ear. They made their way to the front of the ferry where the ferryman was collecting fares. Roven dug in his pouch for two flecksun coins. The crystalline fragments inside the pale blue stone glinted in the light as he pulled them out.
Handing the coins to the ferryman as payment for their passage, Roven guided Cedron to a bench where they would have a good view of the western shore. The weaver and his wife stayed with the wagon, but their many children ranged themselves along the benches on either side of the small ferry.
Two burly young men, probably the ferryman’s sons by their resemblance to the older man, stepped up to their positions along the chain as the ferryman cast the ropes off from shore. The young men grasped the heavy chain from where it exited the metal grommet at the bow of the ferry and hauled it to the grommet at the stern. They let go and walked back up to the bow of the ferry where they repeated their efforts, pulling the ferry across the long lake as the chain dripped water into the deck.
Cedron watched the muscles of the young men’s legs and shoulders as they strained to get the ferry moving and grimaced. What I wouldn’t do for half of their strength and muscles. He looked down at his lanky legs and sighed. At least I’m an excellent runner. His lithe form was good for little else in his homeland of Askari-Barre, where brute strength and martial prowess were traits appreciated by the masses. His adopted brother Toran was endowed with plenty of both and had never let Cedron forget it growing up.
Roven caught Cedron watching the powerful lads and correctly guessed at his train of thought. “Toran would be well-suited for this type of work, don’t you think?”
Cedron was startled out of his reverie. He looked at his uncle and back to the ferryman’s sons and snorted.
“Toran could certainly do this with ease,” he agreed. “But I think he’d become bored with it rather quickly.”
Roven nodded and cast his gaze to the western shoreline, watching fish in a distant school jump for the insects hovering above the water.
“Toran will be a great warrior someday,” Cedron continued his musings. “Dariun is the only one who could outmaneuver him in acrobatics. I remember when the Weapon’s Master agreed to let him use Dariun’s moves in weapons training. That was a deadly combination.”
“Yes, your brother is quite skilled with the blade,” Roven agreed. “Kasuin is proud of him.” He caught Cedron’s pained expression and cleared his throat. “He’s very proud of you both.”
Cedron picked up a small rock and threw it into the water, narrowly missing one of the big lads as he pulled the chain past him.
“Toran is more my father’s son than I am and you know it,” he said. “He should be the one designated as the heir to the Regency, not me. Everybody loves Toran.”
Roven frowned.
Cedron caught the expression before his uncle could clear it and pounced. “See, you know I’m right! Who decided that the Regency should be inherited by a Varkaras anyway?” Under his breath, Cedron muttered, “I’m certainly nothing special.”
Cedron crossed his arms over his chest and looked out over the side of the ferry. He stared out at the tall evergreen trees that lined the shore, their thick branches stretching high into the sky above the thick foundations of their trunks.
Unbroken by any trace of civilization, the water of the lake was green from the endless trees that lined its shores as the ferry slowly made its way across its vast length. The stately trees made him think of his young cousin Lania and her own familial tribulations. Her situation was almost diametrically opposed to his.
Lania had earned the right to their people’s highest honor, despite the chagrin of her mother and sisters. Cedron knew that most, if not all the people of Dulnat would oppose his being named heir to the Regency, even if it was his father’s will. How could father possibly think this was going to work?
Cedron pondered it a bit longer, rejecting every possible argument that his father could have given the people of Dulnat on his behalf. Still, Kasuin Varkaras was a great leader of men in a long line of Varkaras pioneers. He wouldn’t make such a move lightly unless there was a good reason for it and greater than likely chance for its success. Perhaps something had happened that allowed him to sway the people of Dulnat in his favor. Maybe the threat from the Hinaek army had warmed the population to me and my unique abilities. After all, I’ve learned so much over the past three years that perhaps my skills could help defend the city. Cedron grimaced. Those same skills that condemned me.
Cedron squirmed on the hard bench, his backside numb from the long ferry ride. He glanced up at the two lads pulling the chain and realized that they were slowing their pace. Cedron nudged Roven, who had fallen asleep next to him, and pointed to the launch they were rapidly approaching.
Cedron stood and stretched, helping his uncle stiffly to his feet. The ferry slid aground in the pea gravel that has been built up between the pilings to keep it stable. The ferryman’s sons let go of the chain and grabbed the thick ropes used to tie the ferry to the pilings for unloading. Nodding to the weaver sitting atop the wagon, Roven hustled Cedron to the bow of the boat in front of the mighty towren and the two hopped off the ferry.
They wove their way through the small crowd that had gathered either to welcome the arrivals or to board the ferry for passage to the other side of the lake, and up to the lawn in front of the inn that sat imposingly overlooking the lake.
“Any chance we can get a pint of ale before heading out?” Cedron asked, wistfully looking at the comfortable inn.
“Sure,” Roven said and turned toward the inn, nearly knocking Cedron over in his change of direction. “As long as you don’t mind missing the caravan.”
Cedron stopped in his tracks. The call of the comfortable chairs and fresh-brewed ale warred with the camaraderie of his friend in the caravan; the caravan won. Cedron exhaled slowly and pivoted westward on his heel. Roven clapped him on the back and grinned as they started their final march into the forests above Dulnat.
Cedron watched his uncle and decided that the spring in his step was as much a result of the rest they’d had on the ferry ride as his improved spirits. The old man began whistling a lively tune as the daytime deity sank lower on the horizon, his last rays stretching the long shadows of the evergreen trees well out in front of them.
Cedron was grateful for his long sleeves and cloak as the temperature dropped and the biting flies came out. He’d forgotten about those particular pests during his time away and didn’t appreciate having to swat endlessly at them as they hurried through the forest in the deepening gloom.
“How long do you think it will be until we catch up with the caravan?” Cedron asked peering through the trees for any sign of the caravan’s lights.
Roven shrugged. “It’s hard to say. I imagine before full dark, if they’re camped above the city where I think they are.”
Cedron nodded and continued to hold a steady pace. His thoughts had improved the closer they got to meeting the caravan.
“I’ve been thinking,” Cedron began, matching his stride to his uncle’s as the path widened beneath the trees.
“Hmm?” Roven looked at him with raised eyebrows.
“I think that father is bringing me back because he knows I can help the legion against the Hinaek…should they attack Dulnat,” Cedron’s eyes were shining in the fading light.
Roven watched the lad, carefully keeping his expression neutral. “Perhaps, but I can’t say if that is the reason or not, Cedron.”
Cedron’s face fell.
“But I’m sure your father knows how very valuable your abilities are and could be,” the old man quickly said. “I’m sure that whatever his reasons, they are in your best interest and he will be very pleased to see you.”
The young man smiled, his green eyes softened as he thought about his father and the happy reunion he hoped for. He hated disappointing his father and the thought of being helpful and even valuable to the Regent, the city, and her people filled Cedron’s heart with hope. He never again wanted to feel the dejection he’d experienced when his father had to banish him from Dulnat for his own protection. I’ll show them all how great my powers have grown during my time away and prove that I can be trusted to help save lives and not destroy them.
Cedron wandered in his happy thoughts for a few more feet when Roven stopped suddenly and raised his hand. Cedron stopped and crouched down low, joining Roven behind an enormous tree trunk.
“What is it?” Cedron whispered.
Roven closed his eyes, listening without the interference of his other senses. Without speaking a word, Roven gave Cedron the signal for invisibility. Cedron nodded and silently pulled the bloodstone out of his pouch.
He focused on the stone’s properties and pulled his Akashi energy from deep within himself, pouring his essence into the stone. Cedron shimmered briefly and disappeared from view as Roven carefully inched forward. His uncle didn’t tell him what he’d sensed, but it must have been dangerous or he wouldn’t have had Cedron use the bloodstone.
Fear welled up in Cedron’s body causing cold beads to form along his hairline. His heart beat rapidly in his chest causing him to breathe heavier. Cedron clamped down on his emotions, hoping that whatever was out there wouldn’t hone in on his tell-tale perspiration or ragged breathing. Fear of the unknown was far worse that fear of a known quantity, he reminded himself.
Cedron closed his eyes and willed himself to breathe slowly. He opened his mind, sending out tiny tendrils of awareness to pick up on whatever was out there potentially stalking them. Cedron had just felt the fringes of a foreign energy when he heard his uncle gasp.
