It was near the seventh hour of the morning when they stopped to rest. They were tired, and they had been traveling for the last five hours.
On top of that, they realized that virtually no planning had been made for the trip. They needed more food (as they had already finished most of it), more water, blankets, and a route.
“We’ll rest here, and then continue in a couple of hours or so. Who wants to take first watch?” Ilben asked.
“I will,” Owain said.
So Elisa and Ilben wrapped their arms around themselves and fell asleep quickly.
Owain sat there on a log in the warm summer morning and let the air ruffle his curly locks and refresh him. He had always enjoyed the mornings, and had often woken up early at home to walk around before his irritable family had awoken.
The group had settled down on the outskirts of a wooded area, in a relatively open field. Their route consisted of the road leading west. It was a simple plan, and easily made since the province of Talora Kal–as it was now being called–had the best roads in the realm. They were finely crafted cobbled streets, and made for easy navigation. Most other nation’s roads were just a dirt path, and sometimes could be confusing.
Owain sighed and closed his eyes. He knew they didn’t know what they were doing, but it felt right. He was with the girl he liked, his best friend, and Lervstoe was nowhere to be found.
Still, unwanted thoughts swam to the surface. Would they ever find a home? Would Heshibald Crune ever be liberated? Would the rest of the Realm become subject to a tyrant king? Owain didn’t know.
He did know, however, that it was Ilben’s turn to keep watch. He went and shook him awake, and Ilben took watch.
Ilben was tired. He rubbed his eyes and took a drink from the single water flask they had brought. He didn’t need to think, he just listened. He heard the birds tweeting in the trees, the scurry of a squirrel to his left, and the trees rustled in the breeze. It was peaceful, and he let him take him away.
Then he heard someone coming up behind him and he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey,” Elisa said.
He opened his eyes and looked up at her. “Hi. Why aren’t you sleeping?”
She sat next to him on the log. “I couldn’t sleep, and you looked like you needed company.”
“I don’t need company, but I appreciate it,” he replied with a shrug.
They sat in silence for a little while before Elisa spoke. “Ilben, what was your life like before the children’s home? I mean, I have heard a little, but I never really talked with you about it because… you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” Ilben said with a bitter laugh. “I’ll tell you.”
So Ilben told her about his parents, how much they loved him. He spoke about his friends, Luk, Owain, and others. He spoke about Heshibald Crunain traditions, the annual race, and the days spent caring for livestock and making mischief in Torkov Village.
Elisa listened in rapt attention, almost never interrupting. When he finished, she wiped a tear from her eye.
“I’m sorry about your parents, Ilben,” she said softly.
He wiped a tear of his own and nodded. “It’s fine. What about you? I want to hear about you.”
Elisa chuckled morosely. “There isn’t much to tell.”
“Still, I want to hear it.”
So she began:
“When I was seven, my parents and I were on a ship bound for Talora Kal. While I remember their faces, I don’t remember who they were. I remember a great storm hit our ship, and only so many people could make it to the safety boat.
“My parents gave me the last spot, and then I never saw them again. When the group I was with reached the coast of Qaerlin, they all dispersed, and I ran to the nearest village–as a seven year old.
“A couple took me in for a couple years, but I ran away when the woman died. The man turned to alcohol and hated me, and I joined a caravan as just a nine year old. The caravan was on the way to Talora Kal, when a group of bandits attacked and I ran away again.
“For the next three years I wandered town-to-town, multiple families took me in, but I always left. When I was twelve, I arrived in Githhaven. I met a man pretending to be a cripple. He taught me how to scam people, and he took me under his wing for a year.
“After that though, he was arrested. I was forced to take care of myself for a year until I was caught and went to the home.”
Ilben whistled. “I-I… I am ashamed of how I have dealt with the events in my life. I mean, how did you stay strong through all those years?”
She blushed and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “It wasn’t easy, and I wasn’t all that strong. It was only till I was forced to fend for myself that year when I became strong enough to face it and move on.”
“Well, in a twisted way, I am glad I met you. Even if all that had to happen.”
“Same.”
They looked at each other for a moment before Elisa turned away. “Well, it is my watch now, so you might as well get some rest before we leave.”
“Well, I am too awake now anyway, and it’s pretty late in the morning, we should probably go.”
So they shook Owain awake, packed, and set out on the road for their next destination.
It was midday when they reached the first town on their journey. It was a quaint place, with little peaked houses and a lively market.
The three teenagers had a meager ten silver domfel between them. It was enough however for what they needed. They had each taken three domfel and went to look for supplies. Ilben was in charge of finding food.
He meandered through the streets until he found fruit, and the price of one apple was two copper domfel. He had three silver domfel, and ten silver equalled one gold domfel. Likewise, ten copper equaled one silver, so Ilben could buy five apples for one silver. That would have to do.
Ilben paid the money and then went to look for some sausage. After a few minutes, the telltale smell of a juicy sausage roasting over flames met his nose. So he hurried over and found the source.
There, dripping like a freshly caught fish was spread of gorgeous sausages that made his mouth water. So he quickly spent another silver for three of them.
Finally, to finish the glean, he found two cabbage heads for five copper domfel.
Around thirty minutes after they had arrived, the group met back at the town square.
“Look at all this!” Ilben said ecstatically, holding up an armload of food.
Owain smirked and held up a large scroll. “Well look at this map I got.”
“I got some shells, and another water flask,” Elisa said.
Ilben scratched his head. “What are the shells for?”
“You’ll see,” Elisa replied with a wink.
The boys decided not to press her, and the three instead made to leave the town. They now had nearly everything they wanted, but they still needed a large bag to store the things that were harder to carry. They left though, for they had no more money than two copper domfel.
It was a hard trek that day, for the sun was burning their backs and sweat beaded their brows. Ilben’s heart was pounding when they finally stopped to rest in the shade of an oak tree.
He closed his eyes and laid his head back. That was when he heard it.
Owain was ready first.
He had heard the loud clop of hooves coming toward them–fast. He jumped up and grabbed a knife, as well as a few rocks. What the hell?
He frowned at the sight of five riders coming toward them. Bandits.
“Ilben and Elisa, grab whatever you can to defend yourself! We have company.”
Ilben immediately grabbed a thick branch and gave their other knife to Elisa. She happened to be their second best fighter with a knife due to time spent with the caravan.
The three of them waited till the group came near–knowing they wouldn’t be able to outrun the bandits.
All too soon, the bandits arrived, yelling at the top of their lungs. Owain jumped forward and slashed the first of their horses. The man cursed and jumped off his horse, only to be quickly cut down by Owain.
Owain was years ahead of himself in combat. He had fought bandits, wild animals, and even Bloodied soldiers. These highwaymen were nothing more than commoners looking to get easy pickings on a few teens.
At the same time, Elisa cowered before a couple of the other men, crying and trembling. “Please don’t hurt me! I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“Ha! Just come with us and we won’t hurt you,” one of them said with a perverted slur to his words.
Elisa waited, and as soon as they were close enough, she lashed out with a fury that took them by surprise. Her knife took the one who had spoken by the neck, and before the other could react, her knife was in his midriff.
The remaining two outlaws were riding down toward Ilben, who was the worst of the fighters. He backed away slowly and his hands shook as he tried to keep a firm grip on his club.
The bandits cackled as they bore down on him, and in desperation, he threw his stick at the legs of one of the horses. The steed whinnied as it lost its footing and fell, and the attacker fell and snapped his neck, dying instantly.
Unfortunately, the last bandit was almost upon him. Ilben dove to the side as the man rode by, and then was up again, running toward Owain, who had just finished the first outlaw.
Owain had seized a rusty machete from the man he had killed, and ran to help Ilben. It wasn’t needed, however, as the bandit fled upon seeing all his companions dead.
When the three children finally calmed down and realized that what had just happened, terror gripped them. Owain was used to death, but Elisa and Ilben promptly emptied the contents of their stomachs after realizing they had both just been killed.
Owain rubbed his head. “Look, I know that was scary, and we just killed, but on the bright side we have more gear.”
Ilben felt sick. He had just killed a man, even if it was indirect. Sure, he had seen death on the battlefield, but he had never done the deed. Why did it have to happen? Why did there have to be so much death?
With thoughts like those, the trio scavenged what they could from the dead men and their horses. They collected two satchels, a flask of wine, some food, some real weapons, and most importantly: fifteen silver domfel.
The events of the day swam in their minds with a somber mood. The children were gradually becoming adults, and before their time.
So they set off on their journey, ready to arrive at Kalan Village before sunset.
The woman dumped a glop of gruel onto the soldier’s plate. He was probably thirty, ten years younger than her. That didn’t stop him, however. It never stopped any of them. “Hey baby, lookin’ fine. Where are you from?” he said as he bit his lip. The woman ignored his comment. “Is that all sir?” “My, aren’t we a bit passive today?” “I asked if that was all sir.” “I guess. See you around, honey.” She grimaced. She got this treatment every day. There weren’t many women in the camp, and they sought her like hounds. She was still youthful and beautiful at the age of seventeen, and that was all they needed. It was miserable, as she was stationed in Heshibald Crune. It had been conquered around a year and a half earlier by Emperor Harnkelt. She had lived there the last eighteen years of her life, before being taken to be an army cook for the Emperor’s armies. Now she just put up with women-hungry men and cooking. Every day, she thought of escaping, but the camp
It was almost nightfall when Ilben, Elisa, and Owain arrived at Kalan Village. They were exhausted from the fight earlier that day, and they stank like pigs. Ilben was dead tired and ready to get some blankets. The problem they all had on their minds: How would they get enough money for supplies? They still had fifteen domfel from the bandits, but that would only get them all bedding. Thankfully, they had packs now, so they wouldn’t be spending all their money on packs. The three children–if you could even call them that anymore–walked to the nearest market. “How are we going to get money?” Owain said with a frown. Elisa smiled. “Remember the shells I bought?” the two boys nodded. “Well, when I was living alone on the streets of Githhaven, I learned how to make some easy money.” “How are you going to make money with shells?” Ilben asked. “You’ll see. Here’s how you guys can help,” Elisa said. The friends went to the center square separately so it didn’t look like
The trio had begun their trek the next day, taking it easier than usual. They were all aching in different places, and the new packs and added supplies made hiking that much harder. Ilben was feeling useless. First, Owain and Elisa had each killed two of the attacking bandits two days prior. Then, Elisa had found a way for them to make money, and Owain had led them to escape. What had Ilben done? He had thrown a club at a horse, and luckily killed the rider in the process. Also, he had played the part of a fake bettor. Still, his achievements seemed juvenile in comparison. As they walked, he thought: What can I do to contribute well? He was thinking about it when they reached a large clearing in the forest they were walking through. It was a spacious open space with plenty of room to settle down and rest. “Let’s rest here guys,” Owain said. They all nodded thankfully and set their packs on the ground. Ilben looked between Elisa and Owain, noticing that they bot
When I was a child, the stargazers of Tal Kildera spoke of the ancient legends of Ebeldeth. Although the histories were uncertain, the legends were not. They claimed that the ancient King of Ebeldeth–Supreme Sadris Vakom–was part of an ancient race called the Aldrei. Supposedly, the Aldrei were normal humans, who could wield a mystical power. Something called necromancy, or magic. The legends state that Supreme Sadris was of the stargazer race who united the peoples of Ebeldeth. To the Western Shores, there were the stargazers, masters of astronomy and philosophical reasoning. In the midwest, in the kingdom of Qaerlin, they were master smiths and knights. In the middle east, there were the Talora Kalians, graceful in etiquette and pleasantries. And finally, the Heshibald Crunains, the least educated of the peoples of Ebeldeth, but the best huntsmen and trackers. The Heshibald Crunains were content in their humble homes and small villages, living off the land. However, i
“Let's go, Owain! Let’s go, Owain! Let’s go, Owain!” a crowd of probably three hundred delinquent children screeched. At least, that’s what Ilben thought of them. Ilben was a thirteen-year-old boy who lived in Torkov village in Heshibald Crune. He was around medium height and had a lean build. His hair was blonde and came down to his shoulders, and he wore a simple white tunic with breeches and boots. His best friend, Owain, was fifteen, tall, and muscular. His black hair was curly, his jaw square, and he wore a rich purple vest that only wealthy families could afford. At the moment, Ilben and Owain were racing each other side by side for a three-hundred-meter run. Owain was ahead by a shoulder and was generally the most popular kid in town. However, Ilben was well known in his own right and had a few supporters to his name. Generally the sympathetic parents. Nevertheless, the two boys rounded the last corner for the final fifty meters. Ilben was huffing and puffing–fee
The girl smiled as the naive Githhaven citizen tried to guess where the dice was, to no avail. The girl–a street urchin–had been scamming people with the trick ever since an old “cripple” had taught her the year before. It was simple. The trick worked by a sleight-of-hand technique. One had simply to flip the dice out of the seashell it was in, into their hand, and back into a different shell. Many failed, but some figured out they weren’t going to guess the right shell and took a fifty-fifty chance on the other two. Currently, the girl was demonstrating the “trick” to a foolish man. “So watch as I slowly move the shells around, and you can see that the first shell is the one with the dice.” She then moved the shells around and instilled a false sense of confidence in the spectator by showing them that the dice was still in the original one. The man smiled, thinking he would make an easy fifty silver domfel (the currency of Talora Kal). So the girl shuffled
It was a three hours march to ‘Death Point’, as the front lines were being called due to the death toll they brought. Grand Chief Yerg had begged for reinforcements and so the village had sent two hundred of roughly one-thousand men selected to fight for Torkov Village. The war had been going a month yet, and already it was looking grim. Currently, Owain slogged along, panting hard from the exertion of the trek. Even at the age of fifteen, Owain was one of the best archers in his village, thus he was chosen for this mission. He grimaced as he looked around. Chief Agnon had sent one hundred of the village's best fighters, and one hundred of the dispensable ones. All in all, Owain was scared. By now, King Harnkelt had led his army into the heart of Heshibald Crune, forcing a retreat from Chief Yerg in an attempt to mobilize forces. The remaining Heshibald Crunain forces were at a total of twelve thousand–a harrowing number. For the eight thousand Heshibald Crunain soldiers de
A cool breeze wafted between the bars of the cart, eliciting a tremble from Ilben. A week ago, a group of ten boys had been thrown in the cart after the battle–taken who-knows-where. Ilben was inconsolable. Even the presence of Owain did little to lift his spirits, as all he could think about was that fateful moment. Shunk! He could still hear the squelch as the blade was driven into his father’s heart. He could see the blood pooling from his body, and feel the rage boiling inside him. Then he could remember as the pommel of the sword hit him, and everything went dark. He had awoken inside the cart, rattling along the countryside, cold and hungry. Owain wasn’t fairing much better. His will was broken and his heart ached to see his best friend in the state he was. On top of it all, Heshibald Crune was lost. King Harnkelt had taken occupation of the country after the final battle that left the Heshibald Crunains outnumbered five to one. Chief Yerg had been executed