Sailing to Loctar took almost four days because of a horrible storm on the second day out of Beltizar. Erwaith anchored the Silver Hawk along the shore during the worst of the storm to avoid being stranded or sunk. They arrived in Loctar early in the morning of the fourth day and docked at the main wharf. A cool breeze blew in from the Northwest over the water that sent chills into the travelers’ bones. It was an unusual change. Loctar was a sleepy town when compared to Beltizar, but it was in no way a ghost town. The wharf was busy with fishermen mending nets and singing old sea songs. One old gentleman, wearing a tattered waistcoat and wool knickers, was busy playing an old lute while another, dressed in a pair of long wading pants and dirty long sleeve shirt, filled the air with an old folk tune on a shawm. Children danced merrily and made up new verses to the ancient melody. The gray wooden dock swayed with the waves. Several older fishing boats were turned upside down in lin
After days of near-ceaseless walking, the band of weary travelers had finally passed through the Relp Mountains. Descending the pass, gray clouds and a light rain-marred their first view of Semia. Everyone was soaked, their joints ached, and their tempers were short; however, Rylltòl was only a few leagues ahead so they took it to heart. The night was approaching so they tried to pick up their pace. The road leading to the city was wide and paved with light blue stones. The rainwater ran off the stones and into gullies along the steep sides of the two mountains they were walking between. As the gray skies of the day turned to black, with the coming of night, they saw an orange glow ahead of them building in size. They stopped and smelled smoke. There was no mistaking the signs: Rylltòl was in flames. “Curse it!” Myllyof shouted. “What can it be?” Jullious asked. “Let’s go and see.” The angry leader drew his sword and headed toward the city. As they got closer,
Yvayn awoke to water dripping on his face; he was not sure how long he had been asleep. Sitting up and looking around, he found he was alone. His head ached and his friends were nowhere to be seen. The rain had washed away clues to the trail he had taken from Rylltòl. From the gray sky, steady rain was still falling. The air was cold, and the winds were swirling around him. He had no idea which way was which, and he was hungry. He brushed himself off and was about to get up when he saw the broken sword lying on the ground. The rush of memories was more than he could handle; he began to weep and scream. The image of seeing his father killed was too much to bare. “Why?” The question rang through his mind. He was alone, and the rain began to come down even harder; it had already soaked his clothes. A thick mist surrounded him so that he could only see a short distance ahead. He bent down and picked up the pieces of the sword his father used to carry. He tucked them under his cl
According to Menian legend, it was said that the Narcoth army rode into battle against Raka on horses of tremendous size and stature. This did not enter Yvayn’s mind when he rounded a corner and came face to face with such a beast. His wanderings had taken him deep into the high mountains and farther to the East. He was nearing the Mondo River once again. The Mondo served as a division between Semia and Menia as it ran through the Relp Mountains, but it was not a border in the high mountains of Old Narcothia. The Mondo of this region was a wild, ravaging river that was continuously winding and bounding over great rocks and cliffs in its rough-cut bed. The beasts of this country were rugged animals used to climbing steep cliffs and endless rocky trails. They lived in small herds with the males often leading solitary lives wandering the nearly endless woods in search of females. The animal that Yvayn had come across was one such male of its species. The young traveler sto
The sun was well up when Yvayn finally rolled out of bed. He looked out his little window to the street below. A crowd had formed around Cliffhanger, but they were keeping their distance from the grunting stallion. Yvayn chuckled to himself. Suddenly he realized that he had slept the whole night without that awful nightmare. He almost felt guilty for being happy. That white horse had given him a sense of accomplishment that he had not felt before. “He led me here for something,” he said to himself. “I wonder what it is to be?” He put on his clothes and went downstairs and grabbed some bread and water before stepping outside. He stepped through the crowd to Cliffhanger who greeted him with his right foot scratching the ground. “Good morning to you too. So where do we go today?” Yvayn was rubbing the horse under his neck. The large horse padded the ground again with his right foot. “South…again?” Yvayn turned to the small crowd and asked them the name of their to
A few days down the road, Yvayn found he was in the midst of what he supposed were the ruins, from Ernor’s description, of Kelna. He decided to rest at this place while things calmed down back in Shyr. He unpacked and settled in for the night. At dawn, Cliffhanger woke him with a gentle nudge. He appeared to be ready to go. “What is it, boy?” The young prince got up and stretched. It was then that he saw it. Looking out across the cool misty grass, he could see a beast with light golden hair, glistening almost white in the sunlight of the morning. Its mane flowed across its back, and it seemed to be alone, much like Yvayn. “A lion, Cliffhanger, there’s a lion over there.” He pointed, but the great horse already knew. “What should we do?” Yvayn picked up his sword and sheath. Then he packed Cliffhanger with the battle ax Ernor had given him and put the sword around his own waist. The young warrior was wearing the leather outfit the tailor had made for him. It would prote
Part II The Guardian Termâs looked frantically for Yvayn and the Semians for most of the day. He felt guilty for letting Yvayn out of his sight. He was confused by all the events of the day before and was trying to sort things in his head like a good warrior always did before reacting. He knew that Myllyof was dead, and he knew Jullious was dead. But Velsusi…that was confusing him. He realized that Rylltòl would have been totally destroyed had it not started to rain during the night. He sat back and looked out the window of the building where he was hiding. Termâs had found a small shop that was not burned and slept in it. It was cold but at least he was dry. He listened very carefully before moving. The thought of one of those awful hairy sharp-clawed creatures getting him weighed on his mind. He could vividly remember the sight of Jullious being ripped apart. He never cared much for Myllyof’s guard bu
The road to Mano was rough for both young travelers. They followed the enemy, but guards or slow-moving creatures often were on the trail, cutting them off or making them work as a team to keep hidden. While Termâs could fight the large creatures quite well, their unpredictable nature of them was mentally fatiguing. The Beras pass was desolate and cold. Termâs and Cai were often buried in thick mists and light rain. Finding food was not such a problem. Because of the confusion created by the marching army, animals were easy prey. Sometimes appearing right in their path or already dead when they came upon them. After a long hard climb, they saw the vale that led to Mano. The sky had cleared some and the sun was a welcome warm relief on their aching legs and bodies. Evidence of the marching band ahead was all around them with footprints, bloody dead animals, and a kind of putrid smell like a dead skunk or a week-old slain deer festering in the sun. Termâs remembered the smell