"Ena, you need to resurface that dirt. It needs to be level and not clumpy." Mara Surg hadn't looked at the saddle in her hands for ten minutes. "Osker, retrim the hedges. Daphne, bring water here for the flowers."
Eirek tapped his fingers on the side of his hip. How much longer is she going to order them around before she finally approves of the last saddle? He looked around to the open expanse of yard with multiple flower gardens and pine trees, tall and strong.
"Kywin, bring the tarp to the back; there will need to be shade once the guests arrive."
"Lady Surg, the saddle, if you will," Eirek said, hoping to draw her attention away from her servants so he could leave her battalion.
Mara Surg twisted her lips and clicked her tongue. After glaring at Eirek for a moment, she twisted her hands and examined every inch of the saddle. They ran over the leather three times. "It will have to do."
Thank you.
"Payment?"
"Both saddles come to a silver spell and six copper cures."
"Wait here. Do not come inside; I do not want the dirt on your shoes to affect our floors. They are being done." Mara Surg turned around, opened the door, and walked into a lobby with a checkerboard floor of white and black. "Ella, you missed a spot before the stairs. And do not forget to polish the stairs either." She walked up the staircase, constantly looking at the unlit chandelier. "And the chandelier needs to be lit—still. I suppose I will have to do that."
How does Angal treat with these people?
Ever since abandoning Eirek twelve years previous, Angal had spent his time traveling to various families of power and telling tales. He was good with words, but never good with family. But Eirek wasn't his own, so what did it matter? He was only the uncle.
When Mara Surg came back down the staircase, she held a candle in her hand. Eirek saw her lips move with her hand as she flung multiple separate fires to the candles on the chandelier. Power! Eirek stole a quick glance at his hands. It was not quick enough.
"Do not worry about being able to cast. You probably cannot. Here is payment. Also, here is a golden bond. It is the birthday of my twin daughters, so I am feeling generous." Mara Surg extended agolden coin.
How does she know I can't cast? Eirek avoided looking at her, not wanting to chance ruining the opportunity to get additional money. He held out his hand and let her drop the coppers and silvers and gold coin into it. "Thank you, Lady Surg."
"Yes, well, safe travels." She reentered the lobby and closed the door behind her.
Eirek turned around and walked back to his caravan located on the gravel path that led to the estate. He climbed up and sat down on the bench, setting the golden bond next to him—it was the only pleasant thing about the appointment.
As he drove the caravan away, he saw all the workers under the watch of the open suns: Freyr, the great red sun, and Lugh, the small blue wanderer. How can they stand this? At the end of the path, he steered the horses left, to a road that would eventually lead through the Amon Forest and back to Creim. Is she always this demanding or is it because it's her daughters' birthdays? Still, Eirek was impressed with how she was able to cast power.
A slight bump due to a strewn tree branch signaled that they had reached the skirts of the forest. Eirek let go of the rein with one hand and held his other to eye level. "Palo."
Nothing.
Looking toward the suns, Eirek held his hand up high. "Palo."
Still nothing.
He then looked toward the ground and lowered his arm in that direction. "Maa."
And still nothing.
Eirek slouched a little more, picked up the golden bond, and returned to gripping the reins with both hands. Why can't I cast?
To avoid answering the question he posed himself, he looked at the surroundings. Trees, tall and thin, stood stationery to the path of fallen brush and dirt that helped guide Eirek. Squirrels scattered to and fro, and birds chirped.
Eirek listened, but eventually the sounds of nature fell and were replaced by raucous noises of drunken activity in Creim's Square, located five miles from the skirts of the forest. Instead of trees, hip-high crude metal fencing soon became his companion as he traveled another three miles to the place he called home. He hadn't started hearing it until a mile and a half out of the forest, but here at the burgundy house he called home, it was quite the distraction, and a broken screen door wouldn't alleviate the problem any time soon.
This was the Mourses' house, and he had been left here by his uncle, Angal, twelve years ago when Eirek was only seven. Although the Mourses weren't blood family, they were complete, and that's what mattered. Unlike Angal, they saw him more than once every year; unlike Angal, they had a steady profession of blacksmithing instead of a wandering minstrel; and unlike Angal, they cared about him.
Eirek walked up the steps and didn't bother opening the front door, just pulled back the screen, hoping to keep quiet. To his dismay, the wooden door creaked, betraying his presence.
"Jerald . . . Jahn, is that you?"
"No."
"Eirek?"
"Yes."
"Help set the table."
In the kitchen, Eirek found Sheryin preparing a meal. Upon his entering, she turned around and smiled at him through portly lips and eyes the color of the salad greens that had already found their way onto the table. They were the kind of eyes that obliged him to do anything he was asked.
As he set the plates, Sheryin laid a bowl of ham and another of skinned potatoes in the center of a table too large for the kitchen. Or perhaps it was Sheryin who was larger than expected compared to the lean and muscled men she lived with. Eirek was lean, but not as muscled as the blacksmiths who pounded iron and steel daily.
Jahn and Jerald came in fifteen minutes after the last of the plates was set. Their clothes, covered in sweat and charcoal, signified a hard day. Both had lean faces with eyes the like of the steel they forged. Jahn was near Eirek's height. Jerald was shorter, with a stockier frame and a belly hard and round from good eating. His hands were thicker than his son's and made the silverware look small. Neither bothered changing clothes but simply washed his hands in a bucket of water on the kitchen counter and sat. Jahn took a spot next to Eirek.
"Eirek, would you like to lead us in prayer?" Sheryin asked.
"Goddess Trema, thank you for your seeds of fertility to which we owe ourselves and our livestock. We offer thanks to you and the Twelve for continuing to watch over us long after the ancients of Gladima vanished. The Twelve, to this we pray. . . ."
"Well said, Eirek." Jerald's deep voice resonated.
Eirek had learned the prayer in his thirteen years of living there, and to his knowledge, it was the one uttered by most people who believed in the Twelve. Old-Way Believers, like Angal, clung to the beliefs of Gladonity, only worshiping the Ancients Lyoen and Bane. Eirek was caught in between the two: a Dual Believer, as he saw it. He believed that the ancients created everything in the universe of Gladonus, but lost their power during the Great War, so the Twelve picked up their reins to govern all planets except the Central Core. Those who believed in only the Twelve thought that each god held a responsibility in Gladonus but only five were responsible for the creation of Gladonus—Trema created the planets; Pearl, the oceans and lakes; Anemie, the sky; Myethos, the suns; and Luenar, the moons.
Sheryin finished swallowing a forkful of potatoes. "Anything interesting happen today?"
"Drunks upon drunks came into the shop today—'ad to run 'em off with a 'ot iron," Jahn said between mouthfuls of food. "Stumbled in thinkin' it was an inn or a pub most like."
"Jahn, did you really have to use a hot iron?" Sheryin asked.
"Pops told me to."
"Jerald!"
"I 'ad orders to get in today! You know 'ow busy this time of year is."
Sheryin rolled her eyes and exhaled. "Anything else?"
Eirek looked outside and then back down toward his lap—the golden bond matched the waning light perfectly. Should I show it? Eirek let it play between his fingers for a bit before releasing it onto the checkerboard tablecloth.
"Is that a golden bond?" Sheryin asked.
"Where'd you get sometin' like that?" Jahn said.
Jerald picked it up and bit on it. "It's real. Eirek, 'ow'd you get this?"
"Marchioness Surg gave it to me today for pay. She was pleased with the craftsmanship Lagon did on her saddles." Eirek watched as the coin got passed back and forth between the family. "I want you to have it."
Sheryin took the coin, admiring it between her index finger and thumb. "Eirek, what makes you think we would want something like this?"
"For raising me ever since Angal let me off . . ."
"Now listen 'ere, son," Jerald chimed in. "Your uncle ain't no fool; 'e left you off for a good reason. You're being too 'ard on 'im. Sheryin, give the boy 'is coin back."
"I'm just admiring it. . . . They say all bonds come in two. Perhaps—"
"Who says 'at?" Jahn butted in.
"It's a saying! I don't know who actually said it. . . . But, here, Eirek." She slid the coin back over to him. "An envelope came for you today. Or, I found it today anyways. I didn't bother looking who it was from." She stood and moved around the edge of the table to a desk with envelopes. "Here it is. A red envelope with a golden seal."
Eirek looked at the crimson envelope. In golden lettering on the front was Eirek Mourse. Living with Sheryin's family made it as good a name as any to take. The Mourses didn't seem to have any quarrels about it. On the back of the envelope was a golden seal about half the size of the bond he received. Embossed was a dragon, wings outstretched, breathing fire.
It couldn't be. In shock, Eirek dropped the letter. "I don't want to open it."
"Is something wrong?" Sheryin grabbed the envelope and put the wax seal close to her spectacles. "My Twelve—" She dropped it too. "That . . . that . . ."
Jahn snatched it before his father could grab it and examined the seal himself. "From Guardian Eska!" Without a moment's warning, Jahn was already prying apart the seal.
"No, Jahn. Don't."
"Someone 'as to." Jahn pulled out a letter and started reading. "Greetings . . ." Jahn mouthed the words until he found something of note. "It is my greatest honor to congratulate you in your acceptance of the application sent two years past—" Jahn stopped.
"What did you just say?" Eirek asked.
"Eirek, you're in. I don't know what you're in, but you are. What is this?"
Eirek snatched the letter away from him and read it himself. He let the it fall to the table as he slouched in his chair. Surely this must be a mistake . . . . What would his conseleigh have even observed?
"Eirek, does this mean you'll be the next guardian?" Sheryin asked.
"It doesn't mean that. Look it 'ere." Jerald's fingers pointed out a sentence. "'e's a participant to attend."
"You're goin' to do it right, Eirek?" Jahn asked. "I hear the guardian gets to meet with the Twelve face-to-face."
"The guardian is more than treating with gods, Jahn. It's about protecting. My great-great-great-grandmother, Ahna, said that when Deimos came here to Agrost and started pulling the islands of Mistral out of the sky, Guardian Eska levitated them all so that they wouldn't crash. He saved a whole nation. Lucky, too, the man she later married lived on one of those islands."
"'e doesn't usually do that, Sheryin. I 'ear for the most part 'e just stays on the Core protecting what's there."
"What's tere, Pa?" Jahn asked.
"Beats me to death. I 'aven't ever been tere."
"But why did he choose me?"
Each of them avoided his gaze. The room was silent as everyone tried to find an answer to his question. Eirek tried too, but he couldn't.
"I don't know why. But 'e did. Isn't that sometin'?" Jahn said. "You could be guardian."
"This is a once in a lifetime event, Eirek. You were chosen . . . the boy I've raised since seven . . ." Sheryin was trying to hold back tears. "If . . . if . . . I've seen anything in you from these past twelve years, it's been your thirst for knowledge and joy."
"But I can't save people; I can't even cast power. I tried again today—"
"Eirek!" Sheryin took two of her fingers and lifted up Eirek's chin. "That doesn't mean you can't. You just may not know how. There is always time."
When a hand gripped his shoulder, he arched his neck to see Jerald looking down at him. "You need to do this, Eirek. If Angal were 'ere, 'e'd tell you no different."
"Well, he isn't. He never is. . . . I . . . I . . . need to leave." Eirek got up, keeping the golden bond clenched in his hand.
As he walked over the broken screen threshold, he thought about what would make him feel reality. Surely he wasn't living it now. There was only one place that would allow him to collect his thoughts. It was in the forest, by the mouth of the river that flowed from Spera Mountains. He had found it one day when he was eight. He was playing with Jahn and some other village kids until he got lost and found a spot next to a stream. He remembered staring at the flowing water from that mouth for hours—wondering where it came from and where it went—until the Mourses found him.
The once-bright world was slowly turning shades of gray and blue. Ahead of him, Eirek saw Syf soldiers donned in leather padding and with greatwood shields strapped to their backs. The group was lighting torches that were spaced every few feet along paths called fireways.
Gazing at the fire, Eirek walked at their pace for a bit. He held out his hand. "Palo."
Nothing.
If Guardian Eska wanted him to compete, surely it was for a good reason, but he had yet to find it. He hoped that such an invitation meant he was capable to use power, but so far that hope had gone unfulfilled.
The walk to the outskirts of the forest took no longer than an hour. The guards stopped lighting torches twenty paces before the forest for fear of starting a wildfire. When they boarded their hovercraft and drove off to start the other side of the forest, Eirek took the opportunity to steal one of the torches from the pricket. Even though he had traveled the forest a myriad of times, he didn't know it in absolute dark. Songs of chirps and squeaks and twigs cracking underneath his weight played for him as he walked silent and reserved. Foxes and wolves lived in this area, but none would attack. Not so long as he had fire.
Within another hour, Eirek found himself with limited light sitting on a patch of grass that could easily observe Spera's mouth during daylight. He spent minutes there in contemplation, gazing at the stars. When he was tired of looking at the gold and bronze he could never hope to touch, Eirek reexamined his coin. An embossed serpent swallowing its tail ran along the outside of it. The coin's middle resembled a barren field with words in raised gold lettering: Ajid Volintasey Fuan.
"Ajeed . . . Volan . . . Volintas . . . hey . . . Fuy . . . an."
"'May we find each other again' is what it means."
Angal? Eirek spun around. He hadn't heard anyone approach.
His uncle stood there, a torch in one of his scarred hands. A spun shirt of gold and white with ornate patterns stitched down the sleeves covered him. Black breeches covered his lower half.
"What are you doing here?"
"I am here to make sure that you are not, come this time tomorrow."
Eirek looked away from him and stared off into the river. "How did you find me?"
"I was passing by Creim on my way to Syf for their New Day parade. I figured I would stop here for a spell and see you. The Mourses said you were not there though. . . ."
"But, here, how did you find me?"
"The Mourses told me you would be in the forest. And the fire you have makes you quite noticeable."
"What do you want?" Eirek continued to look at the flowing river.
"You have an opportunity in front of you, Eirek. One that people would kill for. Why can you not see that?"
The Mourses would tell you about my acceptance. Eirek stood up and walked toward Angal. "Because I was picked. Me! I have no special talents. I can't cast power. I've never been trained with a weapon—"
"Eirek, strength does not solely come from that. It comes from understanding. . . . It comes from courage and vindication. . . . It is not something that can be taught. . . . It has to be realized. . . ."
Angal reached out for Eirek's shoulders, but Eirek pulled away. "You show up in my life again and expect me to forgive you? How long will it be this time until I see you next? A whole eight seasons have passed since I last saw you."
"Eirek, I've neglected you. Any fool or beggar could see that. Even the trees can see it. You have the potential to be more than some Creim villager. You have potential not even the stars in the sky could measure or all the bonds that spells and cures could buy. I'd be a fool to neglect you even more by not helping you realize it."
Eirek let those words sink in. Despite his best efforts at denying Angal anything, his uncle had a way with words, a way with motivation. That is what caused Eirek to fill out the application two years ago when last they met. Eirek had spent seven days in Syf with him completing it. How was it that Angal reentered his life now, when Eirek thought his past was behind him?
"Where were you for the past two years?" Eirek choked back tears.
"Traveling. I go wherever the wind takes me, Eirek; you know that. It's led me all over the universe during my life. I've seen every nation. I've lived on every planet. But I have never maintained a solid relationship . . . with anyone. . . . I was separated from the love of my life in traveling." Angal showed the copper and silver band on his ring finger. "I missed the most important adventure of my life, and because of it, the woman I love I will never get to see again in this lifetime."
Eirek had never felt this close with his uncle before; he had always remained distant—literally and emotionally. Now Eirek wanted to learn more about this woman, but he knew Angal wouldn't tell. When Eirek was old enough to know what marriage was, he had asked Angal once who the copper and silver band on his finger was for. But Angal never told. And never would. Looking at the stars, Eirek searched for a reason to hate him. They were few and dim.
"I don't even know where I'm supposed to go . . ." Eirek sighed and looked down, listening to the flowing of the stream and the blowing of the wind.
"It does not matter where you need to go; I will get you there. But before that, there is an important item you need in Syf."
"What is that?"
"You will find it tomorrow. We leave from The Spell at nine in the morning. Do you understand me?"
Eirek nodded, acknowledging that he heard, not that he would go.
"We will need to walk through the forest, but from there I can transfer you back in my caracraft. Are you ready to leave?"
The wind blew again. It was cold here, even with the fire. Eirek wouldn't want to stay much longer anyways. He nodded and picked up the torch from its holder and followed Angal through the forest. As he walked, his mind wandered like the profession of his uncle.
______________________________________________________________________________
Please feel free to vote for the story and leave your comments, I would love to see what everyone thinks!