All Chapters of The Anointment : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

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 thinkin

Yvayn woke to the sound of a bird singing outside his window. A gently breeze blew the curtains as he listened to the song. The bird sang a sweet melody as the young prince leaned on his pillows. He began to think as the music from the previous night ran through his head. The singing and dancing of the night before came back to his mind. He remembered dancing with the Semians in a circle. The music was an ancient Semian dance tune played on the shawm, cithara, and drums. He could not remember all the words, but the melody was quite clear in his head. Suddenly he realized the bird was gone and silence permeated the room. The dream he had that night ran back through his mind. The thought of it disturbed him somewhat, but why it bothered him remained a mystery. He figured out that the old man was the same strange man from Dymor, but the young lady was still a mystery. The old man’s face was well defined but hers was a shadowy mist. Yvayn remembered hearing crying but could not

The river journey was nearing its end as the walls of Beltizar began to appear before them. Myllyof grew tired of the boat especially after Yvayn nearly ended up under it and decided to forgo Loctar and get off in Beltizar. The Mondo was getting wider as the ship approached the southern edge of the great lake. Lake Ozwanie expanded some forty to fifty leagues wide and was about two hundred leagues long. It sat along an ancient fault line that also served as the bed of the Mondo River through some of its course. The region around Ozwanie was once part of the ancient Semian Empire before the Wars with Raka. After the wars, the Semians migrated farther north, leaving the lands open for Menian expansion. Menians quickly settled the area, rebuilding some of the villages left by the Semians. The Great Quake changed the shoreline of Lake Ozwanie but not enough to keep fishermen away. The lake itself was full of fish, a welcome food source for the large appetites of the hardy Menian

Sailing to Loctar took almost four days because of a horrible storm on the second day out of Beltizar. Erwaith anchored the Silver Hawk along the shore during the worst of the storm to avoid being stranded or sunk. They arrived in Loctar early in the morning of the fourth day and docked at the main wharf. A cool breeze blew in from the Northwest over the water that sent chills into the travelers’ bones. It was an unusual change. Loctar was a sleepy town when compared to Beltizar, but it was in no way a ghost town. The wharf was busy with fishermen mending nets and singing old sea songs. One old gentleman, wearing a tattered waistcoat and wool knickers, was busy playing an old lute while another, dressed in a pair of long wading pants and dirty long sleeve shirt, filled the air with an old folk tune on a shawm. Children danced merrily and made up new verses to the ancient melody. The gray wooden dock swayed with the waves. Several older fishing boats were turned upside down in lin

Yvayn awoke to water dripping on his face; he was not sure how long he had been asleep. Sitting up and looking around, he found he was alone. His head ached and his friends were nowhere to be seen. The rain had washed away clues to the trail he had taken from Rylltòl. From the gray sky, steady rain was still falling. The air was cold, and the winds were swirling around him. He had no idea which way was which, and he was hungry. He brushed himself off and was about to get up when he saw the broken sword lying on the ground. The rush of memories was more than he could handle; he began to weep and scream. The image of seeing his father killed was too much to bare. “Why?” The question rang through his mind. He was alone, and the rain began to come down even harder; it had already soaked his clothes. A thick mist surrounded him so that he could only see a short distance ahead. He bent down and picked up the pieces of the sword his father used to carry. He tucked them under his cl