I - Two Travelers

The sound of galloping horses pounded into Minos' ear like war drums on a battlefield. It took him to a place he had been trying to forget, from a time he wished he was never a part of. He looked around and he saw an endless column of mounted warriors, with their lances and shields, charging across a bloodied wasteland. Something tugged on his left arm and as he looked, he found it tightly holding the reins of his war-horse. Something heavy weighed on his right arm and realized it was grasping onto a wooden spear. Panic rose to his throat and he tried pulling on the horse, signaling it to stop, but the mass of war-horses and riders surrounding them pushed further and further forward.

     He saw the enemy vanguard up ahead, bracing for their charge. His panic turned to fear and as he looked down at his right hand again: his spear was now gone. He reached for his chest, and the chain mail he was supposed to be donning has disappeared as well, replaced by the thick red tunic he normally wears during royal ceremonies. I can't fight like this. He tried to utter a sound but even he couldn't hear himself. Where's my armor? I can't fight wearing this. No, stop! His foot slipped out of the stirrup and the pull of the earth dragged him downward through the pile of lifeless bodies, through the blood-soaked soil, and beneath, through the endless, inescapable void. He flailed his arms, reaching for anything, until he felt his stomach lurched and then suddenly, a thud. His back hit the ground, waking him up from his dream.

     Minos opened his eyes to reality.

     He jerked up and instinctively reached for his sword, remembering which side he left it on the night before. He looked around and found their two palfreys still tied to a tree. The sun was slowly rising up to the east and he felt the gentle breeze of morning air touching his cheeks, along with the smell of leaves and moist and smoldering wood. The bonfire they left burning the night before was now a dark pile of ember and ash. To his right he saw his foreign companion facing backwards, kneeling, praying in silence.

     He sat up on his bedroll and imitated the cross-legged position his companion has been doing every morning when he prays. He closed his eyes and rested his palms on his knees. It didn't take a second for his thoughts to crawl back into his dream. He tried to resist, but it was stronger than his will, so he opened his eyes once again. This is not for me. He thought.

Instead, he looked down on his palms. He scratched the growing calluses that have formed since the last few days of them riding. He tried picking on one, pulling on it like a scab, until it started to bleed, and he found himself smiling despite the pain. Now that's more like it. He stood up and started coiling his bedroll, sliding it into one of the horse's saddles. He then grabbed the pouch of rations he hid in his knapsack.

     "Do we still have any bacon left?" Minos asked as he took a bite of bread. He knew he wouldn't receive any answer, his companion was preoccupied still, but he wanted to break the silence of the morning which always made him feel uneasy. "The bread is starting to smell." He picked off the few molds clinging to the surface of his food before sitting down on a fallen log. He continued eating in silence.

     Eventually, his companion finished praying and stood up. Minos watched as the small figure, covered from neck to heel with a long, embroidered garment rarely seen on this side of the continent, walked towards the horses. "You know you can remove that when you sleep, right? I mean, it's just the two of us." He was referring to his companion's headdress that covered most of the face, revealing only the dark-brown eyes, another feature rarely seen on this side of the continent. His companion didn't respond, which wasn't a surprise; instead the foreigner took out a wooden container from one of the bags and showed Minos the last strip of bacon safely stocked inside.

     "Oh, that's the last one?" He asked. He knew it was a stupid question, obviously it was the only remaining bacon. But he would take any chance he could get just to speak. The last few days traveling with his silent companion has made his tongue feel shriveled. For someone used to running his mouth all the time, having a companion who doesn't respond to you was probably the worst way to travel. "How about we split it?" The foreigner pushed the box towards him, urging him to grab the piece of meat. Minos picked it up with reluctance, then shrugged.

     After he finished eating, the two travelers untied their horses and walked out of the clearing. Minos remembered fondly when he found the hidden path to this spot the night before. It was elevated high enough that you can see a glimpse of the main road, but obscured enough for any traveler to notice when they're passing by. He stepped out onto the road and looked to the east to where they came from the night before, the sun was peeking shyly at the top of the hill. He looked to the west, another hill greeted them at the far end of the road.

"Do we need to hurry?"

     His companion simply gave him a blank stare before mounting his palfrey and trotting away. "Can we not, please? Not that I'm complaining, I'm just--" he followed behind, tugging his horse, "well it's kind of a complaint... I guess I'm complaining. What I mean is, I don't want to sound whiny..." His companion was already a few paces ahead and it was clear to him that he was simply talking to the air. "Of course you don't care, you're just here to make sure that I complete this task alive, and my psychological well-being is not really of great concern to you... Look, it's a beautiful morning, can't we just stroll and enjoy the scenery? What's the rush?" The foreigner halted, gave one look at Minos, which he couldn't tell if it was a look of annoyance or dismissal because he's too far behind. The foreigner jumped off the horse and Minos could swear he could hear him sighing behind that thick stifling mask he's wearing. "Thank you."

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   The sun had traveled a quarter of its route when they reached the top of the hill. Minos took in a deep breath and smiled, "I think we're here" he said to his companion. Down below, he saw a small village, surrounded by several hectares of farmlands. Far to the south, a white morning mist covered the horizon, as the flat lands stretched all the way where his eyes could see. To the north, the snow-capped Mount Visiga was watching over them, with its peak covered in clouds. Its appearance reminded him of his companion: shrouded in mystery, silent, stoic. He smiled to his own amusement. "Finally!!" He shouted, "we should reach the village by noon. Right in time for lunch."

     Something caught Minos's eye and he glanced back to the road behind them. A horse and wagon rolled up the hill heading towards them. He took note of it and continued walking.

They were halfway down the hill when the sound of a galloping horse and a squeaking wheel reached his ears. The foreigner stood aside and reached for a sword buckled on the waist. Alert and ready, I couldn't ask for a better companion, Minos thought to himself. In contrast, Minos stood aside and drably waited for the wagon to appear at the top of the hill behind them. As it did, he could hear the driver slowing down the horse, preparing it for a steady descent down the slope. Minos studied the person holding the reins from afar. He saw a young man, appearing close to his age, maybe even younger. Peeking over the driver's shoulders, he saw a doe-eyed boy, eyeing them intently.

     Minos and his companion watched as the wagon slowed down a couple of paces away before halting. The man driving it looked at them both and gave a friendly nod, "Are you heading for the village, or just passing through?" he asked. The boy sitting behind him gave a shy wave.

     "Village." Minos answered. "You?"

     "Same." The young man answered. Upon closer view, Minos could see by the brown tunic over his tanned skin, the coal smudges on his face, and the coif covering his dark, sun-bleached hair that he's a peasant. A miner perhaps? He thought. He also caught a glimpse of a small dagger protruding from the young man's side, a weapon typical for protection.

     "Why aren't you riding your horses?" The young boy sitting on the back of the wagon asked.

     "Oh," Minos gave a brief pause before the boy's eager question, "we're due for a long day's ride and I don't wanna tire the horses too much, so..."

     "But you said you were headed to the village," the young boy asked quizzically, "if you ride your horses you'll get there sooner, and the sooner you get there the longer the horses have time to rest."

     "You're a smart cookie, aren't you?" Minos was visibly impressed by the young boy's logic. "Well, the truth is, we've been riding for days and my butt hurts and my thighs are getting chaffed, so..."

     The driver and the boy shared a quick glance and a snicker before looking back at Minos. "Not used to riding? Jump in if you like." The driver asked.

     "Oh I'll be honored," overstated Minos. "Can we tie the horses on the back?"

     "Sure, go ahead."

     "Thank you." Minos answered in a sing-song tune. He grinned at his companion and gave a gesture to follow his lead. "Come on!"

     Minos tied his horse at the back of the wagon, and his companion followed suit. The young boy cleared off the seats and offered them to the pair. Minos sat beside the boy, squeezing his leg between the seat and whatever the tarred canvas was covering on the wagon floor, while his companion sat on the opposite side.

     "You're good?"

     "Yeah!" Minos answered, still grinning from ear to ear. He looked at his companion sitting across from him, then to the young boy who was now on his left. "Let's go!"

     "So what's your business in the village? You traveled a long way, where were you coming from?" The driver asked.

     "We're from the Capital." Minos responded. "We're, uh.." he hesitated for a moment, glancing at his companion. This was the first time someone really asked him what he's doing, "we're looking for somebody."

     "I see. You're not bounty hunters, are you?"

     "No, no we're not. It's just routine Capital business." He lied. Nothing about what they were doing was routine. "You?" Minos lifted the tarred canvas laid out in front of him, underneath he saw piles of charcoal. Lodged along them was a double-headed axe.

     "Oh I'm delivering that. I supply the village with charcoal for their stoves." The driver replied.

     "Ah, so you're a resident."

     "No, not really. I live outside with my father, we have a hut in the forest. They don't like us burning wood for charcoal inside the village. The smoke, it's... you know, irritating for the eyes."

     "Ah, they don't like the smoke but they do love the charcoal. That's humans for you, in a nutshell."

     "What do you mean?" inquired the young boy.

     Minos turned to face the boy beside him, excited to impart a valuable philosophy to a young mind. "You know how nobody likes to cook, but everybody loves to eat, or nobody likes to do the laundry but we all are wearing clothes? Humans don't like doing the dirty job, or refuse to take any part in the dirty job. But when it comes to reaping the benefits of that dirty job? Oh I tell you, everybody will line up. That's how humans work."

     "Really?" wondered the boy, a little unconvinced.

     "Yes! Look at your brother over there, is he your brother? Is this your brother?" He asked the boy then the driver.

     "No," the driver answered, "he's just some pesky little kid who likes to hang out with me."

     "Hey, I thought we're friends!" opposed the young boy. The driver laughed.

     "He likes to keep me around because I'm good with numbers."

     "Hey, I can count, okay?" argued the driver.

     "Only up to ten!"

     "I know eleven, and twelve."

     "And after that?"

     "Twelve and one, and two, and three, and then twelve again. That's two dozens. See?" The driver and the boy bursted into laughter. Minos would very much like to continue with explaining his twisted philosophy but watching these two and their banter was a good enough alternative. It took him to another memory, one that he cherishes this time: when he was the boy's age and he was learning how to count.

     "Where did you learn how to count?" Minos prodded the boy.

     "From my mother. She taught me how to read and write too."

     "Your mother must be a genius. You should have her teach him." Minos joined in the jibing.

     "No, she couldn't, she's gone," the driver answered.

     "Oh, I'm sorry."

     "No, no, she's not gone-gone. She just.. left. She abandoned him, she and his father both. Probably too tired of raising his wise-ass."

     "No, they didn't!" The young boy slammed his fist on the wooden seat of the wagon, and the whole vehicle violently jerked up and down, shaking the rest of its contents. The driver reached down to his horse to try and calm it down, and checked if the horses at the back reacted. Minos' companion reached for his sword-belt, while Minos himself grabbed for the wooden handles on the sides. He looked at the boy and he sensed a change in his aura. He could swear he could hear a faint hum emanating from his fist.

     "Hey hey, cool it, I'm just messing with you," defended the driver.

     Minos and his companion shared a knowing look. He returned his gaze to the young boy who was now returning to his former demeanor.

     "They just went to the city for a very important business. They will come back for me." The boy murmured, almost in tears.

     "It's been three years now, kid. They're not coming back," asserted the driver, glancing at his passengers at the the back. Minos gave him a look. Stop talking. He returned to face the road again.

     Minos rested his palm on the young boy's shaved head, feeling the short croppings of hair starting to grow again, "I'm sure they will, and when they do, they'll have dozens of books with them, books you could read." Minos was thinking about amusing the boy with talk of new toys, but decided against it and went with books instead. He seemed to be the type, and with how he returned to his happy self, Minos was right. "You know what..."

     Minos reached for his breast pocket and produced a small leather-bound booklet, placing it on the boy's lap. "What's this?" The boy grabbed it and started reading. "Thee. Dragun. Fromm. Thee. Shyre. What's this about?"

     "It's about... a dragon. From the shire." Minos didn't know how to explain what the book was about, as he never really got past the first ten pages himself. He found it boring and too juvenile for his taste. He only reads it so he can go to sleep. "It's my favorite book," he lied, "and I want you to read it."

     "Yey! So it got dragons in it, huh. Have you seen a dragon?"

     "No, not really. Only on paintings. And on a stage, but it's just a paper dragon." answered Minos. He watched the boy start flipping on the pages of the booklet.

     "Hey Robb!", interrupted the driver. The young boy looked at him, "What are you gonna say to the man?"

     "Oh!" the boy exclaimed, "Thank you, mister..."

     "Minos, just call me Minos."

     "Thank you, Minos."

     "And this my friend here is Rei." Minos' companion nodded his head to the young boy.

     "Do people from the Capital dress like that?" inquired Robb, pointing at Rei's peculiar garment.

     "Why, have you seen other people dressed like that?" answered Minos.

     "No."

     "No, they don't, cause Rei here is not from the Capital."

     "Where's he from?"

     "From somewhere far, far away." Minos leaned down towards Robb and pretended to whisper, "he doesn't really wanna talk about it, so best pretend he's not with us." he teased. Despite Rei's eyes being shrouded by his headdress, Minos knew they were rolling up. "How about you, driver? What's your name?"

     "Ashvell," answered the driver, "just call me Ashvell."