Chapter 1:
The Man and the Bird
(Note: Mhykol is pronounced Michael. Annetoc is pronounced Anna-tock. Daen is pronounced Dane.)
Mhykol stumbled along, weary from the day’s work and anxious to relax. He had spent the day hauling grain, and it felt like punishment considering they knew he lacked physical strength. When he reached the river he quickly undressed, giving special attention to safeguard his mother’s spirit stone. It was always all had left of her and was sacred to him. The stone was a shade deeper then night, and sparkled like fresh dew in the sun. Mhykol dived into the pool; its chilly waters purifying him from the sweat and grime. He floated along, his cloudy brown eyes watching the sky.
He thought about the coming day. The 20th cycle of his life, when he becomes a man. His thoughts began to drift to darker things. The Warlord Grom was on the march again, people said he was an evil man that sold his soul to gain mystical powers. Mhykol didn’t know if that was true or not but he knew that Grom destroyed everything and everyone in his warpath. He was relentless and unstoppable. Tales floated around of his unholy acts. Eating children, bathing in blood, tearing people apart with his bare hands. Mhykol shook those thoughts off when his ear twitched, he heard something. Mhykol looked over and saw Daen. When Daen realized he was spotted he ran off.
Mhykol cursed himself for not paying attention. Daen had followed him, and had caught Mhykol swimming, the village people considered it unholy for a human to swim. They believed that belonged to the fishes, Mhykol thought that was idiotic. Mhykol got out and dried himself off and got dressed. He looked to the ground to find his tracks; he was obviously heading back to the village. Daen was always the one causing trouble. He was also the one that regarded Mhykol with the utmost suspicion and hate and he was always looking for Mhykol's downfall, now he found it. He pounded through the forest, heading towards the village as his lithe form flitted through the trees. Not once did the thought of running away cross his mind.
As he neared the village he saw that his Father was waiting for him. "Mhykol! I have to tell you something. It concerns all that was kept from you." he hissed. Before he could say anything more, two of the village warriors grabbed Mhykol. "Out of the way! This boy is being brought to The Wise Man!" They yelled at his father. He calmly stepped back, watching the men carry Mhykol away.
The Wise Man was at the center of the village, he was "conversing" with the "spirits". As the warriors came towards him he raised one of his hands, ordering them to stop. He unpacked the bones; they were carved with glyphs and were bleach white. He started muttering under his breath and rolling the bones in his hands. He cast them down with great extravagance. He studied the bones, noting the glyphs that turned up. "The bones have spoken! A trial will be held! Gather all who wish to see, here!" The Wise Man cried, his voice echoing with authority. Mhykol was afraid, the whole thing looked like a sham, and a sham would let anything happen to him.
Everyone except the children had gathered around to see Mhykol's fate. Mhykol knew every face. There was Trum, the man that taught him how to hunt. There was Shari, the woman who looked after him when his father was gone, and there was his Father. Theirs faces held no emotion, their eyes glimmering in the light. They had built a roaring fire, and in the falling sun, it cast long shadows upon the ground. The Wise Man, was sitting in front of the fire, eyes closed and muttering to himself. The Wise Man hardly spoke out loud, and always gave a great show. Mhykol never like him, he could always tell he was a fake, he never got why everyone else was so ignorant. The Wise Man's muttering ceased. He rose up, unsheathing his wicked ceremonial knife. "The Trial is nigh! If the man if innocent, the Good Spirits will intervene!" his voice rang out on the deathly silence.
The warriors gripped Mhykol tighter as the Wise Man strode forward. Mhykol was struggling, and begging them to stop. They paid no heed to his cries. There was a sadistic smile plastered on the The Wise Man's face as he brought the knife up. It flashed down, slicing open Mhykol's arm. "Let it be known! This man is possessed by evil spirits! But as his father is a great man, we will treat this wound, and exile him! If his face is shown again, past next nightfall, he must die!" his voice cried, rising above the painful screams of Mhykol. Everyone looked at Mhykol in disdain, sickened at the thought of his possession. As the crowd dispersed, the warriors picked him up and threw him in the healers hut.
The next day, after bandaging his wound, he was cast out. They threw stones to drive him away. They whizzed through the air at him. The angry villagers were quite accurate, stones bruised and split the flesh on his back, legs and arms. He ran into the forest trying to make him as small as a target as possible. Soon they stopped throwing them, content that he was gone.
"I don't need them! They have always treated me with contempt! Nothing else!" he muttered angrily as Annetoc, a crow with brown eyes flew down and landed on his shoulder. He was Mhykol’s greatest friend and he pecked at Mhykol's head
"Would you stop doing that?" Mhykol snapped.
The crow didn't answer his eyes alight with mirth. "What happened?" He chuckled.
"That ignorant bastard Daen saw me swimming! He got the Village Elder to banish me! Said I was possessed by Evil Spirits! No one spoke up for me! Not even my blasted father!" Mhykol raged.
"Now, now, we don't need that language" Annetoc told him, as he poked at his head.
Mhykol didn't answer.
"Anyways you never did fit in with them! You'll do so much better with just me around!"
Again Mhykol wasn't listening.
"Something is calling me out there." He said quietly.
"Out where?" asked the confused crow.
"Beyond the swamp." Mhykol replied.
Annetoc burst out laughing. "It's impossible to get through there on foot! Anyways there's nothing beyond there but broken land from the Change!"
The Change didn't happen very long ago. During that time, the land tossed and heaved, changing itself and disaster. It brought harsh times upon the village, crops failed and the herd died. The Wise Man claimed it was because of their sins, he killed lots of people that month and Mhykol noted it was mainly his enemies and those who doubted him. The Change also affected Mhykol on a personal level; it awakened the ability within him. The ability to converse with animals.
"What else would you me do? It actually feels like I have a purpose now!" Mhykol yelled, angry all over again.
"Mhykol, how would you get through? The mud devours those who aren't cautious! And the Myst! Nobody knows what the Myst does! But whoever encounters it doesn't live!" The crow complained.
"Annetoc, you know the Myst is an old faery tale to scare away children." Mhykol said.
The crow sighed. "Oh, the ignorance of man."
"I'll fly ahead and scout for shelter. Night falls quickly this time of year!" The crow called, taking off.
Mhykol grumbled in response, thoughts on the strange pull. He always knew he was a strange child, the way his Dad would refuse to talk about his mother. All he said was she died at his birth. Everyone else refused to talk to him about their history. All he had from his past was dreams, of a waterfall, the comfort of fur, and the stench of animals, the sting of winter.
He recalled the day he met Annetoc, it was the same day he learned he could talk to animals.
It was a horrible day, the crop failed and Mhykol was starving. He was upset about his friend's reactions to him steadily becoming revolted to cooked meat. They looked at him in contempt, whispering about the odd one. Mhykol was wandering around outside the village when he saw a crow in a tree watching him. Mhykol picked up a stone and chucked it at the crow. It sailed clear past the bird, Mhykol was never good at violence, another excuse for his peers to mock him. "Go away!" yelled Mhykol angry at the bird for just staring at him like that. It was looking at him like everyone else did, with confusion, curiosity and fear.
"The human speaks to me?" it said in wonder.
Mhykol fell backwards startled at the speech of the bird.
"I must be hearing things! Maybe I am as insane as they say!" he exclaimed.
"If you're insane, then I must be too! Talking to a human! It's ridiculous!" the crow cried.
Mhykol let out a short scream, terrified at the speech of the bird.
"No, it’s a daemon! The Village Elder always went on about them!" he gasped
The crow was pecking at itself. "Well this isn't a dream, and I'm no daemon, so I think you should calm down. My name is Annetoc, best flier around! And who are you my friend? You're certainty an oddity!"
Mhykol glared at the crow. "You know this can't happen, I would never be allowed into my home if they knew I was a mad man talking to birds." he said.
Annetoc laughed. "A good argument my friend! But what good will running away do? Animals have much wisdom! Who needs the other humans, they never liked you!"
"How would you know that? Were you spying on me?" Mhykol asked him.
The crow laughed again, ruffling his feathers. "Why wouldn't I? The human that is not accepted? What a curiosity!"
"Why does it feel like you're laughing at me?" Mhykol glowered.
"Don't be so glum chum! Learn to laugh at life now and again! Spit in the face of its cruelty!" The crow chuckled.
"You've never had it rough have you?" Mhykol questioned.
"Had it rough? How could I have it rough, when I can't take anything seriously?" The crow cried laughing again, this time Mhykol joined in. They quickly became great friends. Annetoc taught Mhykol how to find joy in life's cruelty.
Mhykol came back to reality, sighing at the days past. The sun was going down and Annetoc had returned. "There's a cave ahead, looked abandoned but be careful." They entered the cave, Annetoc said goodnight and left to find somewhere to sleep. Mhykol had snatches of sleep on the stone floor, dreams filling him. Echoes of day's past. The feeling of warm fur. A waterfall and the stench of animals.
Annetoc was pecking at him.
"Come on! We can't dilly dally! The swamp is coming up soon and we will want every inch of daylight!" the crow cried.
Mhykol opened his eyes; the rising sun peeked over the horizon, bathing him in a golden glow. He yawned, stretching out his stiff joints from the rough sleep. They carried on and soon approached the swamp.
Trees clutched at the ground, drooping as if carrying some great tragedy. Shallow pools dotted the clearing. Across the clearing was the swamp, gnarled and twisted trees, knotted together in a forlorn wall. Shivers ran up Mhykol's spine just looking at the gloomy tangle. He sighed and marched on. Ready to confront the horrors of the swamp.
He entered the cluster trees, all that greeted was a slight whisper on the wind. Mhykol turned around looking at Annetoc waiting at the entrance.
"Are you coming or not?" Mhykol asked.
The crow ruffled his wings nervously "Uh, well, you know it looks awfully tight in there, doesn't it?" he replied.
"You're smaller me! I have lots of room, so come on!" Mhykol snapped.
"Well, uh, you know I'm a bird, and birds you know, don't, um really, like, erh, small spaces?" The crow complained.
"So you're claustrophobic?" Mhykol said for him vehemently.
"Well, what do you expect? I'm a crow! I live for the skies! I'm not some mole, or badger always in smallest of places!" Annetoc said.
Mhykol grumbled and marched on as Annetoc took to the skies, watching over him. They didn't know what they will encounter during this trek, they both might die. But Mhykol knew deep down that he was for something more.
Mhykol didn't see the eyes. The eyes that slithered along, waiting to have its meal.
Sunlight straggled through the warped branches, shielding the ground from its shine. A low moan of wind whipped around, gently caressing everything, looking for companionship is this dark land. It used to be a nice forest, people said. Around the time of the Ice Wall, a beautiful forest lay here. But through the warming days the Ice Wall dissipated, drowning the forest in its tides. All that was left was a shadow, a husk feeding off misery. After a while, around 19 cycles, Nature seemed to decide it needed a barrier again. Then came the Change destroying the landscape beyond the swamp.
Now the swamp was a wall, no one wanted to go past it, no one wanted to see it and no one lived passing through it. Or so they said. Either, Nature was hiding something, which seemed ridiculous, Nature defending itself, it was unheard of! Or those around Mhykol were hiding something from him. His past and what was truly beyond here that was calling him. He intended to find out, to solve the mysteries of his life.
Mhykol began to feel woozy, there was a purple haze creeping in. Mhykol panicked, he whirled around looking for escape, but The Myst surrounded him. The stench was nauseating. It brought tears to his eyes. He began to feel lightheaded and numb. He stumbled forward and tripped on an outstretching root. As he sank into the mud, the eyes slithered over to its victim. Another fool for him. It laughed.
Mhykol lost consciousness, the world drowning out in the ripples of darkness. It felt quite nice and he gave no resistance.
Mhykol awoke with a stifling cry. He quickly looked around, he was under a tree, and he was still in the swamp. What happened? He thought to himself, his memory was blurred and fuzzy. He got up groggily. He still had his knife, and he still had his clothes, so what happened. Suddenly out of the water, slithered a crocodile. He grinned at Mhykol, it was hardly friendly, his rows of teeth were quite fearsome.
"Lucky day, little man." It growled its voice gravelly. "She said to keep you alive, to guide you out for your quest."
Mhykol was wary "Who is 'She'?" he asked.
The crocodile didn't answer. It had turned around and was walking into the haze. "Coming or not?" it growled.
Mhykol followed, keeping his eyes on the surrounding to look for a trap.
"The Myst gives us food, renders our victims helpless. Its easy food, but you're not a meal today, no matter how hungry I am, nobody defies her." The crocodile murmured.
As they traveled along the desolate track, the sunlight was beaming in stronger, a sign that they were nearing the edge. The cursed trees began to disperse; quiet chatter of animal began to return. The crocodile stopped and looked at Mhykol.
"End of the line boy, the danger of the swamp has passed." It said, turning back into the swamp.
"Wait! Will you guide me if I come back?" Mhykol cried.
The crocodile let out a deep laugh. "There is no going back now boy!" It said as it disappeared into the shadows.
Mhykol watched it go, a piercing squawk of a crow sounded in the air. Annetoc swooped down, landing on a branch nearby.
"What happened in there? You were missing for a couple of days!" He said angrily.
"I encountered the Myst. It knocked me out and when I woke up a crocodile led me out, said it was because of 'She'." Mhykol explained.
The crow was silent. "You know who 'She' is? Don't you?" Mhykol growled.
"It doesn't matter, not now." Annetoc rushed.
"Why not?" Mhykol snapped, angry that his friend was keeping stuff from him.
"I can't! I just can't! She will tell you when it is time, but believe me! I wish I could, but I can't!" The crow cried nervously.
Mhykol glared at him, and walked on. He started gathering plants to qualm his ravenous appetite. It wasn't long before they reached a sheer cliff. It dropped down a dizzying height, into the vast sea below. Mhykol gathered some twigs and started a fire; he roasted the roots he collected, for a decent meal. He was still angry at his friend. And as he fell into sleep, familiar dreams haunted him.
As dawn rose upon them, Mhykol and Annetoc were arguing, they seem to argue a lot these days.
"Well were here! You see how this was a fool's errand! That cliff is a straight drop to death!" Annetoc said.
"I'll find a way down, there has to be a way down. I'm not giving up now!" Argued Mhykol.
"Even If you did get down, there is still the sea! You said whatever you're looking for is beyond what we can see!" Annetoc snapped.
"Well figure it out when we get there! Mhykol faltered. "Annetoc, I'm sorry. I don't know why I have been so irritable lately."
The crow sighed. "I guess I have been a bit irritable too."
"Well, we better get searching." Mhykol said stretching.
They walked upon the edge of the cliff, looking for a way down and sometimes gazing at the shattered land that dotted the sea. "There!" cried Annetoc wheeling around the sky. Mhykol saw it too. A skinny ridge, running steeply along the cliff. It looked dangerous; one would have to hug the cliff to even stay on. Mhykol had no choice, it was the only viable option and he had to get down. He could die, but he had to try.
He clutched at the rock and very slowly began to descend. After a few very stressful and tiring hours, Mhykol made it down exhausted. He lay down on the beach of a small island. Trees dotted the landscape and Mhykol saw something strange. There was a hut, overgrown and seemingly abandoned; it sat in the middle of the island. It was sloping over and looked like it was about to collapse. Mhykol stumbled over to it and looked inside. The entire back wall was missing, that explained the sloping. There was also a raft in the middle of the floor. Mhykol saw these at his village. Women fished on them, but Mhykol never knew how to make one.
"Well I found a way to cross the seas!" Mhykol called out to Annetoc.
The crow flew in. "A raft? How would that get us anywhere?" Annetoc asked confused.
"This one is different; see that pole in the middle? That's for something important I bet." Mhykol explained.
Annetoc looked at it quizzically. "Well we could always test it out. Not much harm in that huh?" he chuckled
Mhykol set off to gather some food for the voyage. After a few hours, Mhykol had bundled some food and was pushing the raft onto the beach. As he was nearing the water he gave it an extra strong push and jumped onto it. The wind caught in the sail and the raft shot off, gliding through the water by the power of the wind. Mhykol screamed at the sudden movement, a rope whipped in his face. Mhykol pulled it and the sail dropped, gliding the raft to a stop. Mhykol was laughing at the sudden jump. Glad to have this amazing thing with him.
Annetoc flew down onto the raft. "Which way?" He asked.
Mhykol pointed off to the distance. "For adventure!" he cried, pulling the rope. The wind carried the man and the bird through the water, to whatever lay for them on the distant horizon.