Chapter Two "Leaving Home"

     The afternoon was warm with clouds slowly rolling over Yvayn’s head toward the Southeast; again, he was alone in the field looking at the ocean. He watched the seagulls hovering over the edge of the water looking for morsels of food. There was a gentle, cool breeze coming off the land; the storm from the day before had brought with it cooler air. Summer was beginning to lose its fight as the autumnal winds of the great northern expanse began to advance south. Away in the distance, he could make out the shapes of merchant vessels heading toward Careath with their sails billowing outward in the strong ocean winds. The waves were crashing on the shore leaving heaps of foam in their wakes. Large balls of gray clay were rolling about the sand with the waves pushing and pulling at them. Yvayn remembered taking some of these when he was young and making a fort on the beach.

     It was not long before he heard the sound of footsteps coming up behind him. He turned around quickly thinking it was Termâs trying to play another trick on him. To his surprise, it was Jullious, Myllyof’s personal guard.

     “Greetings, my young warrior,” Jullious said in his usual proper stuffy manner.

     “And good day to you,” Yvayn replied in the same proper stuffy manner.

     Jullious was dressed in full travel armor that consisted of shoulder plates, a chain mail shirt, chain mail pants, and long thick leather boots. He also wore a prominent necklace with a cross on it. Jullious was a very proper sort of man: religious to the point of being a zealot. He strongly disagreed with anything not directly connected with the church, especially The Order or the wizards. He tolerated The Order because he was an even stronger believer in his subservience to the crown. The Order taught that the crown must be obeyed; therefore, Jullious was obedient to Myllyof.  Jullious served as Myllyof’s guard since the king was a child. He was older than the leader of the Menians, but he was still quick and nimble and, in times of trouble, willing to step in front of the king at a moment’s notice. He was a large muscular Menian from Cathar, and like his father before him, he had long locks of jet-black hair and olive colored skin. His eyes were blue like most full-blooded Menians, and he had a well-groomed mustache and short beard with a few steaks of gray.

     “Your father is here,” Jullious continued, “and he wants to see you as soon as possible.”

     “Yes, sir.” Yvayn got up and brushed off his clothes. The two walked up the hill toward the castle. Yvayn stopped and turned around one more time.

     “You will see all this again in time.” The old guard tried to comfort the young prince, but he is not very good with children and comes off harsher than comforting. He puts his arm around Yvayn and directed him to the castle with an arm more controlling than consoling.

     Myllyof was in the gathering hall with Mia when they walked in to join them. Termâs was seated at the table looking over some maps and pointing to some mountains and a narrow road.

     “Ah, Yvayn.” Myllyof looked over to his son. “It is about time you joined us.”

     “He is a little shy,” Mia said in his defense.

     “Mia, dear, would you leave me with my son for a moment?”

     She smiled at her husband with a bit of a twinkle in her eyes. She stepped out but did not go very far.

     “Yvayn have a seat.” Myllyof pointed to a chair for his son to sit in next to him.

     Termâs stayed and remained quiet, going about his business.

     “Son?”

     “Yes, Father?”

     “I understand from Termâs and your mother that you are…how should I put it?”

     Yvayn politely stared.

     “Not too ready to go?”

     The prince turned a little red and ashamed.

     “Son let me tell you this. You may be nervous or afraid because you’re getting ready to leave here, but there is really nothing to fear. It isn’t like when my father and Velsusi put me on that boat all those years ago and we sailed off. I had no idea where we were going. At least you know I’m taking you to meet a dear old friend, Parnuhl, the leader of the Semians. Rylltòl is beautiful and quite safe.”

     “Father?”

     “Yes?”

     “It isn’t just that.”

     “What else then?”

     “Why do we even do this?”

     Myllyof paused a moment to think about his answer. “I don’t want to just say ‘because’ and leave it at that.”

     “Good.”

     “When your grandfather came up with this idea, some of the clans were already doing this sort of thing. He thought it was a good way to expose our young men to the world and to have them face their fears.” He smiled.

     The prince frowned. “I’ve heard that some have died doing this.”

     “Yvayn, people die every day when not on a journey. People don’t just stop living because they are afraid of dying. If that were so, we’d just live in caves under blankets.”

     Termâs laughed under his breath and Myllyof ignored him.

     “What about a shorter trip then?”

     Myllyof sort of smiled. “Funny! No, each person that does this takes an appropriate journey. Yours is to meet our neighbors to the North and establish a relationship with them. I don’t want my son, the future emperor, to come off like a nervous cat in a dog pen.”

     Yvayn thought a moment. “All right, I see your point. But tell me how safe the journey could be when we’re going through lands that grandfather sacked in the Clan Wars?”

     Myllyof gave him a long look. “Things now are not as they once were, son. Remember, at one time Menians did not even have full freedom to rule themselves.”

     “I know. Mother’s taught me that.”

     “The Semians once ruled us because we had grown weak and fearful. Thaliese, the Semian emperor during those times, took over because he was asked to; Menia was a mess. The Menian king at that time was a man named Pahl who was weak and had no vision for his people. His son, Joir, was apparently even worse. It is because of that and what it led to that your grandfather took great care to keep Menia from collapsing again into an endless civil war between the clans.

     Yvayn nodded his head. “I know some of this as well.”

     “Yes, but one clan leader became so greedy and evil he killed his own father to gain control of his clan. He killed hundreds of innocent people and your grandfather was the only one who could stop him.”

     “That was Gordan of the clan Gratar, correct?”

     “Yes, but to answer your questions, what your grandfather did by making all the clan leaders gather together made them have to talk to each other. The Anointment Journey gave them a goal, something to look forward to, something that we all would have in common. So, the lands are safer now than ever before. That is why they named this land of ours, Myrmidar, in honor of him.”

     “But…”

     “But what, son?”

     Yvayn looked at his father closely. “There are still animals to deal with. What if we run into a bear or a lion or…”

     Because of his son’s behavior, Myllyof threw his arms up in the air in disgust. “You’re impossible, son! Mia!”

     The queen stepped back in with a wry grin. “You need me?”

     “Yes, your son is impossible.”

     She laughed. “Remember, dear, it was your decision to let me raise him here nearly alone.”

     “I know.” He smiled at her with a look of shame.

     “We were in Careath when he was born, and we could have stayed there. But you…”

     “I know,” he interrupted. “I get it. I get it.”

     Mia looked at Yvayn. “Son?”

     “Yes, Mother?” He looked hopeful.

     “You are going and that is that. I left my home to come live here so it is only right that you must make the journey if for no other reason than to please me.”

     At that, Myllyof kissed her and stared at Yvayn and then looked back at Mia. “You know I needed you a great deal in Careath.”

     “I know, dear. Now when you get back, we can all finally live together in the palace like we should.”

     “You see why I married her, son?”

     Yvayn turned red in the face.

     Myllyof’s love for Mia ran deep into his heart, and when he was at the castle, he never let her get far out of his sight. He ruled Menia with an inner strength, understanding that everyone had an equal voice or task no matter how great or small. And Mia was his moon or reflective voice to his outer brightness or sun radiance. Their marriage was sacred, bonded in their ability to live as one, both male and female. Their bed was made of olive wood and was their sacred realm.

     “Now I’m going back to my room before I get emotional again.” Mia gave her two men a long hug and stepped out of the hall again.

     “I am ready to get on the road.” Termâs said this as he rolled up his maps and put them into a leather satchel.

     “I am ready as well.” Jullious stepped in and looked toward the Emperor and his son for their replies. Myllyof turned to Yvayn and gave him a long questioning glance.

     “I am ready.” His voice was surprisingly clear and strong.

Servants brought bags into the gathering hall and set them near the door. Jullious and Termâs looked them over and hoisted them onto their backs. They then helped Yvayn and Myllyof with their bags. The four walked to the door. The young prince turned to speak to his mother, but she was walking out the other way covering her eyes.

     “Come along, Yvayn,” Myllyof called out, “you will see your mother soon enough. She has always hated good-byes.”

     Yvayn stepped to the door to join the others. They all headed for the gate and the main road to Careath. Yvayn drew in a deep sighing breath and took his first steps on his Anointment Journey.

     The road between Careath and Ver Nooy was an ancient one that connected the northern Menian lands with the ones in the South. It was lined with low shrubs to help mark it from a distance. The castle was some five leagues off the main road and was connected by a path built and worn down by Myrmidon and Myllyof and many others. Thousands of stairs cut into the solid rock by workers under the close watch and care of Yvayn’s grandfather, Myrmidon, led up to the main road.

     The goal of that day was to get halfway to the small fishing village of Dymor before sunset. It was at least a day and a quarter’s journey from the castle to Dymor. They had left the castle at midday, so it was Jullious who was most anxious to keep up a fast pace because he did not like Myllyof and Yvayn being out in the open after dark. His dedication to his task was almost unbearable at times. They were all breathing hard when they got to the main road, even the high-strung old guard.

     “You’re going to kill me one day.” Myllyof was looking at Jullious with sweat rolling down his face.

     “Can we rest?” Yvayn asked between breaths.

     “Only for a moment. We are in urgent need to move forward.” Jullious had caught his breath.

     “Oh, quit with that Catharian gibber.” Termâs threw in this comment with a glare toward Jullious.

     You are too lazy, my young man. You lack for control of your body in times of trouble. You should pray for guidance as I do.”

     “You are just a big…besides I have plenty of control, and I am a better swordsman than you!”

     “You have forgotten your oaths to the throne of Menia!”

     “You two quit, or I will beat both of you while reciting the oaths myself,” Myllyof said as he began to walk toward the North on the main road.

     They all turned with him and began the long walk to Dymor. All four moved at a quick pace set by the elder guard. The road itself was not bad for travel because, over the years, layers of moss had grown on the granite stones and this helped cushion their feet. Yvayn kept to himself and looked at the road with eyes of wonder.

     “Father?”

     Myllyof adjusted his stride to walk next to his son.

     “Yes, Yvayn?”

     “Why is this road so wide if it is used just for walking?”

     Myllyof looked side to side as if watching for a sudden attack of some kind. “That is a long story.”

     “We are on a long journey.”

     “You are right.” He boosted his pack and scratched his black beard.

     “Many years ago, no, make that ages ago, animals in these fields were used to carry men and to haul wagons. The animals were called horses. They were brought here from the East…Mesnar, to be exact.” Myllyof looked at Yvayn hard and serious. “They were brought here to help fight the Wars with Raka.”

     The mere mention of the name Raka sent shivers up the young prince’s back. He found himself looking around to see if he was being watched.

     “How could they have helped?” Termâs asked curiously.

     “Well, the Menian and Semian armies needed a strong animal to help carry heavy loads as well as men across great distances. The roads were built to keep carts from sinking into the mud during the winter. As my father told me, toward the end of the wars, Raka was trying to divide the Menian kingdom into two parts so as to defeat our ancestors. The horses proved too quick for Raka’s armies on foot in the North and West. The Menian horse troops were heading south to the ancient lake port of Ès when they encountered a vast army of Ipsians near here. No one is quite sure where the battle was, but the Menians were defeated by great treachery, and the horses were killed. Even today there are stories about great horses living up in the high valleys of the Leptonis Mountains. But alas, they are just stories.

     Termâs looked at Myllyof. “How do you know they are just stories?”

     Yes, Father, how do you know?”

     Myllyof looked at both of them and smiled. “I guess you will have to ask Velsusi because he was the one who told my father about the horses and their great riders.”

     “I think I will,” Termâs said.

     “I, for one, believe you,” Jullious added.

     “I’m not surprised,” Termâs said sarcastically.

     “What do you mean by that?”

     “You always agree with him.”

     “Not so…”

     “That is enough!” Myllyof stopped and glared at the two guards. “You two had better work out your differences before I work them out on your hides.”

     “And I am still a better swordsman than you,” Termâs said under his breath to Jullious.

     They continued walking once again. Their stride was swift so as to get to shelter before dark.

     “What else do you know about those wars, Father?”

     Myllyof lowered his voice, “there are many things that happened that are now lost to us, Yvayn. You have to understand that nobody was sitting there with a piece of paper taking notes. There are various stories of strange creatures, horrible armies, and of course our courageous ancestors trying as hard as they could to defeat all of that. Also, it wasn’t just the Menians fighting in the wars. The Semians fought too, as did the Coth and some people you still haven’t heard much about call the Gromolians. It was awful as were the Clan Wars, but we managed to somehow survive, which is more than can be said of the Coth.”

     “Why is that?”

     “Some say that Raka was very angry with them over something, and he had them all killed near the end of the last war. The Narcothians or Narcoths, as your mother likes to call herself, were a separate branch of the Coths, and they survived. That was a long time ago, son.”

     “I know, but I like to hear about it.”

     “You can talk to Velsusi later about it.”

     The coast of Myrmidar was a gentle slope of mixed grasslands and hardwood forests. The road was occasionally lined with tall pines alternating with tall oaks. The trees were covered in veils of moss creating an eerie, almost otherworld landscape. Many of the trees closest to the shore were sculpted into bazaar shapes by the western winds off the Plenar Ocean.

     The woods of Myrmidar were filled with deer and an occasional black bear. Even scarcer are the salt marsh jaguars. The rice and cattle farmers that lived along the coast hunted most of the jaguars to near extinction many ages ago. Jaguars were later protected by a royal decree since they did not really attack cattle, and they certainly did not eat any rice.

     The coastal road of Myrmidar was also dotted with watchtowers at even intervals of ten leagues. There were also guard posts every five leagues that were occupied during times of trouble or, like now, during important missions. Every post was filled as Yvayn and the others walked by at a hurried pace.

     They stopped that night in a way station along the road. It was small, but it could hold all four of them well enough. The beds were simple wooden pallets hanging from the walls, held up by old half rusted chains and two wooden legs.

     The men ate lightly and slept lightly, as the beds were hard and Yvayn was not used to such humble living. They were awakened early the next day by the sun lighting the small room through one of its windows. Jullious was already up and outside praying.

     “Does he do that every morning?” Yvayn asked.

     “Yes, and on some days he’s really loud about it.” Termâs added.

     “It is just who he is Yvayn. I’ve learned to deal with his religious nature.” Myllyof gave his son a smile. “Now we need to get going.”

    

     As the sun began to sink ever closer to the waves of the Plenar, Yvayn could make out some faint lights ahead. He could see that they looked like torches. “Is that Dymor?”

     “Yes, it is.” Myllyof answered his curious son’s question.

     Dymor was nothing more than a haven for fishermen. It sits on a low harbor halfway on the land and halfway in the sea. It became clearer as they closed in on the main gate. A call rang out from the watchtower as the four approached.

     “Who goes there?” an unseen guard called in the darkening twilight of evening.

     Jullious stepped forward and began to speak in his most formal Catharian manner. “It is his highness, Myllyof, son of Myrmidon, wishing to enter the city of Dymor under friendly terms.”

     Termâs had to hold himself from laughing out loud.

     “What is so funny?” Yvayn whispered to his guard.

     “If Jullious were any stiffer I would think he were a …”

     “Be silent!” Jullious glared at his younger colleague.

     “Enough…all of you!” Myllyof interjected. “It is I, Myllyof, son of Myrmidon, to enter. Send forth a guard to escort us to the Marlin Inn.”

     “Yes, your highness.” A guard could be heard trying to open the creaky old door.

     Dymor was an old city made up mostly of lay fishermen hoping to make a day’s wages on the open sea. The Plenar usually gave up plenty of fish, but there were times when fish were few. Some city dwellers made their living farming in the salt bogs, growing rice and even raising oysters. The rest of the people ran the everyday businesses of a small crossroad town. Dymor was really nothing more than a glorified clan village. It survived because it was between Careath and Ver Nooy, which was more than a day’s walk in either direction.

     As the four entered the gate, Yvayn became acquainted with the smells of raw fish and raw sewage. There was no plumbing in Dymor so garbage along with human excrement was tossed out windows onto the streets below. Rain did wash away some of the garbage, but the smells remained quite strong, especially to one who was not used to such things.

     “What is that awful smell?” Yvayn held his nose shut with his fingers.

     “That’s life, my young son…that is life.” Myllyof patted Yvayn liberally on the back to force his fingers from his son’s nose.

     “It is good to see you here again, sir,” the guard said.

     “It is good to be back,” Myllyof replied.

     The guard led them down a narrow street and around several curves until they came to a gray clapboard building with a half rotten sign outside. It read…The Marlin Inn, drink your troubles away.

     “We should get some news here about the weather up North.” Myllyof was looking at the others.

     “Thank you, young man.” He gestured to Jullious to tip the guard for his service.

     “Thank you, sir.”

     “Let’s go in,” Termâs said anxiously looking around.

     The four stepped up onto the porch and walked into the pub. No one seemed to notice them through their half drunken stupors, which was fine with Myllyof. A short stout man with a bright red nose and greasy dark hair approached. He wiped his fat hands on a well-worn apron, and then looked the four over.

     “How may I hel’ yu ol’ frien?” His accent was purely coastal and truly grotesque. His teeth were stained, at least the ones that were still there. As he spoke, one eye looked at them while the other wandered around as if lost on its own.

     “We would like a table out of the way please.” Myllyof took control of the situation knowing that Jullious highly disagreed with such lowly places. The portly man turned and led them through a door.

     “I tink ya liker ov’ ‘ere?”

     “Yes, thank you.”

     “Doesin’ ya wan’ some drin’ fro’ der terst?”

     “Three and one water.”

     The man nodded and quickly walked back through the door.

     “Now there was a fine example of why one should not…” Jullious was interrupted by Myllyof’s hand over his mouth.

     “Would you just stop for once?” Myllyof said under his breath. “You and you highbrow attitude could get us more attention than I want. I don’t want a big show just because I’m here.” He forced Jullious into the bench and sat beside him. Yvayn and Termâs sat on the opposite bench.

     The air was filled with the smell of stale beer and smoke. The wide table where they sat was cut from one piece of wood and was quite thick. Four stout legs held it up. Several people had carved their names in the table and benches. A candle dripped endlessly from an old bottle and served as their only light. The walls of the room were covered in old skins. The floor was made of wide boards spaced apart to let spills and vomit flow through. There was one window across from them; its shutters were drawn closed for the night. Old wood beams ran overhead to hold up the rooms above, which were filled with loud sailors looking for cheap love after a day’s work. Yvayn barely grasped all this when the portly man returned with the drinks.

     “Who’n de water fir?”

     “Him.” Myllyof pointed to Jullious. The man set down the drinks and wiped the table with his dirty towel.

     “Tell me…”

     “Ye’ my ol’ frien’. The man looked at Myllyof with his good eye, if it was good.

     “Have you heard anything about the weather up North?”

     The man continued to wipe the dirt around and around. He hardly noticed the question but soon gave an answer. “Well…I hurn tha’ it wa’ migh’ goo’.” The man could not finish a word because if he slowed down his speech any, he might forget what he was saying. He stopped wiping and motioned with his chubby finger toward a man across the room.

     “He ca’ hel’.”

     “Thank you.” Myllyof tipped him. “You know you should try a cleaner towel once in a while.”

     The man gave a laugh that sounded more like he was about to explode than a true chuckle.

     “How could you understand anything he said?” Yvayn watched the man waddle away.

     “I am used to it.”

     The stranger, wearing a dark cloak that was either dark blue or black, sat down opposite the young prince.

     “I was told you could help us.

 Myllyof began the conversation.

     “I might.” The man’s voice was soft and yet quite clear. Yvayn did not recognize the accent but he could tell it was vaguely familiar.

     “How is the weather to our north, my good man?”

     “Good.”

     As Myllyof continued their conversation Yvayn began to notice that the stranger was looking at him. His eyes were deep ice blue. His hair was white as was his beard that nearly touched his waist. The young prince could not see all of his face or head because he was still wearing his hood. The man’s hands were nimble, and his fingers were thin. He had a medium length nose that was thin and slightly pointed. His eyes were clear and aware as if concealing great wisdom behind them. He spoke eloquently yet kept his answers concise so as not to reveal anything beyond the questions at hand.

     “Do I know you?” Myllyof thought he recognized the accent too.

     “No, but I know of you, Myllyof, son of Myrmidon.” The strange man raised his hand in a passing gesture.

     “Well, as long as the weather is good, we can walk.”

     “Boat would be better,” the old man said.

     “Boat would be better,” Myllyof said as if he did not mean to.

     After Myllyof thanked the man, the stranger got up. He refused any tip and stepped out through the door into the dark.

     “That was interesting,” Termâs said almost blankly.

     “Yes…it was,” Jullious also said still staring at the empty doorway. “I thought Myllyof hated boats?” The older guard scratched his head.

     “Everything sounds good to me,” Myllyof added. “I think we should all go to bed and get some rest. We still have a long walk tomorrow to Careath.”

     Yvayn remained silent, thinking about that strange man. As they got up to go, the young prince noticed a gold piece sitting in the place where the man had been. He picked it up and placed it in his bag. No one seemed to notice this.

     The men all walked into the main room and then went back outside. Yvayn was behind them walking slightly slower when he felt a hand on his shoulder from behind. He jerked around and saw it was the strange old man. He motioned with his finger on his mouth so as to keep the prince quiet. Then he looked at the others and waved his hand. They just stopped. Yvayn was half asleep as the old man began to speak.

     “Yvayn, you must listen to me.”

     “Listen…” he said in a low voice. “You must go on this journey at all cost.”

     “Must go at all cost.”

     “Yes, yes, my young prince. You are the one that has been chosen.”

Yvayn just listened, glass-eyed and staring into space.

     “You must go and be with the other one. You will awaken now.”

     The strange man let go of the prince and disappeared into the night air. The others shook their heads a moment then looked back.

     “Come on slow poke,” Termâs insisted.

     They stayed the night in the royal quarters on the north side of Dymor. Yvayn slept uncomfortably because the dream he had been having come again but with a darker twist. He dreamed about the two figures, the old man and the other one on the road. Now he could tell that it was a girl. The dream changed and had him wandering aimlessly. He did not fly as before but instead found himself facing a bottomless pit. As he stood by the edge of the pit, its sides gave way and he began to fall. He awoke breathless wishing he was at home in his own bed. He wanted to hear a story read to him by Mia, but he knew that would not happen anytime soon.

     “Why do I have to go through all this?” he thought to himself. Why couldn’t someone else be the next king and just let me be me? But wait, I have to go. I can’t just go back home now. I have to be the one. I have to be…” By the time he was finally sleeping soundly, a rapping was heard on his door. He rolled in bed and pulled a pillow over his head.

     “Yvayn?” The voice was familiar. It was Termâs.

     “Are you sleeping?”

     “I was.”

     Termâs came into the room.

     “What do you want?”

     “I was just checking on you. It is my job.”

     “Couldn’t you do it quietly for once?”

     “I suppose, but then I wouldn’t be able to tell you that it’s time to get up.”

     “I just fell asleep.”

     “Your father wants us to get an early start.”

     “Tell my father to give me a few more…”

     “Get up!” Myllyof called from the hall. “I knew you would be slow.”

     “Come on…I just want some sleep.”

     Termâs and Myllyof came over to the bed and pulled his sheets down. The cold morning air made goose bumps all over his half bare body.

     Breakfast was an uneventful event of rye bread and honey with butter. They left on time to catch a glimpse of the sunrise over the walls of Dymor. The only other people up were the hung-over fishermen loading their boats for another day. The markets were still silent at this hour of the day.

     Yvayn noticed that the birds were beginning to flock about the harbor. The fishermen threw out their garbage and the birds swarmed on the trash. The morning air still had a chill to it, especially with the breeze coming off the land. The smell of rotting fish made Yvayn’s stomach turn.

     He reached into his pocket and found the gold coin and rolled it around in his hand nervously. It was smooth and comforting. Then he remembered the old man and felt a little more comfort. He straightened up and walked a little faster. He almost beat the others to the gate.