Chapter 2
A fire was growing inside of Clal, he could feel it. He stoked the coals of the fire everyone had helped to build. It was the story. Rythe’s story.
Rythe and Ansa hadn’t talked to Clal much since returning from the river. They had all unpacked, laid out their sleeping gear and were now watching Turl as he stood up in front of the fire.
“Well, apple mavens and maidens,” Turl held out his hands, “I believe it’s time for some stories. Yes?”
“Horay!” Mina cheered.
“Come on, Turl. Tell us some good ones.” Gree said hitting his stick he found against a half unearthed rock by where he was sitting.
“Okay. Okay.” Turl chuckled. “Assuming you calm down…”
“Now…Rythe here, he’s new to our little tradition.” Turl steps over to where Rythe is sitting, a top a large boulder with one foot on and his elbow resting on his knee.
“Rythe, welcome. And so, every year on the night before we begin our apple selling season in the merchant’s market of Eldan Vyum, we do a little…” Turl looks at Mina who smiles and giggles, “you know, kind of a,” Turl turns and looks behind again, this time at Gree who is now frowning and waving his brother on, “er…oh yes, we tell stories, sing a song and roast apples, then we go to bed.”
Rythe looks at Clal, then to Ansa and smiles, “Sounds fun.” And, Rythe meant it. This was one kind of activity that he’d never before been a part of, being an only child. In fact, as he thought about it, he really had had to grow up rather fast.
Turl spun around on his heals and clapped his hands twice. His broad torso flexing as he pulled his hands to his chin and stuck out his pointer finger.
“Alright, shall we go top to bottom or the other way around?”
“Start at the top,” they all yelled, all except for Mina who wanted to start at the bottom.
“Okay. Alright,” Turl said, “We’ll start at the bottom.” He leaned close to Mina and pulled her off the ground onto his shoulders.
“Here we have the youngest of our crew, Mina the Marvouslous.” Mina put her hands to her mouth to stifle a giggle.
“Rythe, one thing I didn’t mention is that these stories are about each one of us between when we went to market last year up until now. So…”
Turl closed one eye then turned and looked up at Mina with his other eye as his mouth bunched up to one side of his face under his high cheek bone. He hopped forward one step and said, with his hand in the air, “I think I’ve got it.”
“Mina, about seven months ago, when the snow was thick and wet, pulled on her warm clothes and marched out to build something in the snow. Gree was still asleep, or else he too would have been with her. I remember looking out of the window watching as she started. I wasn’t asleep but was not ready to brave the cold wind. But, Mina was. That’s didn’t stop her.”
Turl patted her leg. Another giggle escaped her before she could catch it.
“She was out there for a while, came in, and pulled me into the clutches of winter outside. ‘What is this?’ I asked as we approached the tiny snow dragon. Mina replied, ‘It’s my snow dragon.’ ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Well, where are it’s wings?’ Mina cocked her head, then put her finger to her forehead. She then jumped up to grab two twigs, stuck them into the dragon and said, ‘There. Two wings.’ ‘And, does she have a name,’ I asked Mina.’”
Turl raised his hand, “and this is the reason for telling the story. Mina, do you remember what you told me?”
Mina nodded her head. “Yes. I said that she was named Dreamfinder because some day I want to fly on a white dragon like that,” Mina smiled, “only much bigger.”
The others laughed as Turl pulled Mina off his shoulders. “Yes, much, much bigger,” he said. Mina returned to sit beside Ansa. Gree stood up and walked to stand by Turl.
“Gree has grown this year.” Turl pinched Gree’s biceps, “grown strong too.” Turl balled up his fists and started to dance around and put in a few soft blows to Gree’s stomach who jabbed Turl’s left ribs after which Turl whines and walked to stand by Gree again.
“Last month, you see…Gree went climbing,” Turl paused and raised his eyebrows, “…a tree. And he said to me from a top that tree.” ‘Hey Turl,’ said he, ‘Watch me.’”
“Which I did.” Turl said while Gree put one hand to his brow, shook his head and looked at the ground.
Turl looked up out to Rythe and Clal, Ansa and Mina as they all watched and waited.
“Gree inched toward the middle of a branch as far as it would allow him without bending or breaking,” Turl clapped his hands and Mina shouted while the others listened just jumped, except for Rythe.
“Then Gree ran from the tree limb, around the trunk and onto another tree limb then leaped toward a branch of another tree sailing through the sky.” Turl took one hand and waived it over through the air.
Now, the rest of the story goes like this, “Gree didn’t have any wings, like Mina’s snow dragon, Dreamfinder, so, naturally,” Turl swooped his hand downward, “Gree had to come down.” Turl paused, “Which…he did, reaching for whatever tree limb he could hang on to.”
Turl put two hands on his hips then announced, “And as he came down, Gree’s voice got louder until both Gree and his yelling stopped.” Turl paused with wide eyes. “…just two feet above the ground.”
Turl turned to Gree, “another daring act survived by our young master Gree.”
Turl started a clap and the others joined in. Gree was now blushing as he walked to his spot and sat down in the grass.
Turl walked back and forth for a moment then pointed to Ansa. “Okay Ansa, you are next. This will not be easy. Too many to choose from.”
Ansa gasped and jumped up from where she was sitting then stood close to the fire rubbing her hands together.
“Ansa is full of wisdom and surprises. I dare say she’s the wittiest of us all,” Turl turned and said in a hushed voice, “though, I’d like to believe I’ve can play wit now and again too.”
He turned to the audience, “This year, Ansa could be found chasing a number of animals…like…birds…frogs…and butterflies.”
Ansa turned from the fire to listen. “Ansa do you remember when spring was ending and we had climbed up to the only lake ole’ Crescent Keep mountain allows to nestle in its climbs?”
“Nimle Top?” Ansa said.
“Yes.” Turl said. “And, do you remember what happened there?”
Ansa cocked her head, “No, I don’t.”
“There were dragon flies out that early morning. Clal was gone and Gree wasn’t with us either. Just me and the girls.” Turl looked off into the distance. “And, you said one landed on your hand as you were looking out into the water.”
Turl’s gaze froze on his own hand as he continued the story.
“While we were climbing down later, you were behind me. You described the dragon fly to me.” Turl smiled slightly.
“You described the magic of the colors in its eyes, the head and body and the way the feet poked out, every detail. And…I remember that by the time you were done I had forgotten who I was, where I was going, and your voice almost sounded like you were singing the song of the dragon fly to me.”
Ansa giggled.
“That’s Ansa, all things animal and creatures.” Turl said.
Ansa walked back to her spot in the grass.
“It’s a gift, Ansa. A gift.”
At this, Rythe looked over at Ansa who was looking at him. He smiled and she shrugged her shoulders. Rythe clasped his thumbs together and fanned out his fingers flapped them as he moved his now, concocted dragon fly in a figure eight motion. Ansa smiled and nodded slowly.
“Clal, come up here, my brother.” Turl waved his hand.
“Now, Clal is leaving us, along with Ansa, this year.” Turl shook his head. “Too soon in my opinion. But…”
Turl came close to Clal and wrapped his arm around him.
“He’s going to become a blacksmith. And, I think, that fits Clal. Swords and shields and poking things.” Turl nudged Clal with a finger in his ribs.
“I remember one evening when we were pruning the apple trees and mother called us in for meal time. Clal,” Turl turned to him, “you stayed out there, sort of, dawdled so as to be the last one there.”
Clal looked up at Turl and nodded.
“You took one of those cut branches, one that looked straight and long and it had two branches sticking out so as to look like the hilt of a sword.”
Clal started to smile.
“You looked around to see if anyone was watching.” Turl smiled. “That’s when I hid myself more secretly.” Turl turned to everyone and said, “Then I heard Clal say, ‘I have the upper hand now. Don’t think I can’t finish this off the way I meant to. The way it’s always supposed to have gone.’ Then, Clal thrust forward and I don’t think I’ve ever seen such sword’s play in all my days. Clal…” Turl turned to Clal who was looking down at the ground.
“I would feel safe with you in my midst among any threat of creature or minis that exists in all this land.”
Turl clapped which caused the rest to clap. Clal smiled then hit Turl on the arm which caused both to start laughing. Clal returned to his seat where Turl came and sat beside him.
Ansa stood up, slowly walked toward the fire then turned quickly around on her heals.
“Turl. Turl. Turl.” Ansa shook her head as she spoke. “What to say about our eldest brother Turl. Hmm…oh…I think I have something.”
Ansa froze then hopped forward an inch.
“The rotten apple.” She turned to Turl. “Do you remember.”
“Ansa…no.” He smiled looking down at his left hand. “No, please. Not that one.”
“Turl, there are no rules to this here tradition.” Ansa smiled wide.
“When we were picking apples just a week or two ago, Turl was high on a ladder filling another basket full. Er…two baskets I believe it was.”
Turl nodded, then shook his head holding up two fingers.
“And somehow, the ladder couldn’t handle all of that weight. It started tipping with Turl on it.” Ansa let out a sharp chirp after which she put her hand on her mouth to prevent any further interruption.
“That’s when Turl started to yell and swerve and he tipped mouth open wide.” Ansa stopped and chuckled then composed herself.
“I…” she paused and turned straight face out of force, unsure if she could finish the story. But, having committed to tell it all the way through, she continued, unabated.
“Now, I believe in miracles, but never of this kind or s…ss…sort.” Ansa stood still for a moment then continued.
“On the way down,” she was now talking very fast. “Turl caught a branch.” She shook her head, “No, not with his hands or feet, but with his mouth, his teeth sinking right into that soft bark and lo,” she stood up straight with her hands out, “he stopped himself from falling, with a bark and a bite.”
Ansa couldn’t hold it in any longer she started wailing uncontrollably as the others couldn’t help but join her. If it was Ansa laughing or the story itself, or both, no one knew. However, the laughing went on for a good few minutes and begin to die down after Turl replaced Ansa at the fire.
“If mother and father were here we’d tell a few more stories.” Turl’s eyes looked back along the road toward the direction of their homestead. “This year, they decided to stay home for a few important reasons.”
“This is where we end our story telling with a lullaby that mother composed,” Turl smiles slightly, “she says, when I was just a few weeks old.” He looked at each of them, “and has sang to all of us when we’ve been scared. It goes like this.”
Is it enough to belabor the broom…
Is it enough to believe in a star
When the day is a blanket over
Will the night come with the moon over head
Sailing bright over head
If she spoke would I hear her voice call
, then ran to where Turl, Gree, Mina, and now Rythe were unpacking their sleeping blankets and setting them out for the night.
It was summer still and the heat of the day was waning. It would still be several hours before sunset. There was no fire built that night for warmth and light were not needed. But a fire within Clal had been lit, sparked by Rythe’s account that he knew, he too would be a part of. Why else would Rythe have spoke to Ansa and he about it, and in such great detail?
Just after the sun sunk below the far off tree line on the hills, Ansa grabbed his arm and spun him around.
“Clal, <back story about days and weeks and months back home from Gree, Turl, and Mina…….some fill in.>>>>
Clal walked slowly to the cart, climbed in, then caught a glimpse of Ansa still smirking. He shook his head and looked away.
When the cart started moving again they all returned to their own thoughts. The clip-clopping of the horse’s hooves on the wooden planks of the bridge that spanned the river echoed against the trees. They reached a clearing and the hot sun beat down on the three of them. The cart continued to climb and soon reached the top of a small hill.
“Eldan Vyum,” Nareete announced.
“Clal look,” Ansa said. “Eldan Vyum! It’s enormous.”
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“Look at that,” Clal said, “it goes on for miles and miles and miles.”
Clal and Ansa had never set foot in the great central city of Eldan Vyum. They had never seen such a place. They had only pieced together in their minds depictions of what it might look like from stories and conversations over the years.
The sun sank lower and lower toward the horizon as they continued to talk about their plans while in Eldan Vyum. Rythe planned to head straight home after the examinations to care for his mother. He mentioned, though, that he promised to visit Clal and Ansa before he departed for home.
“I’ll be talking again to the blacksmith so I will most assuredly be visiting you Clal.” Rythe said.
They continued to talk and hardly noticed how dark it was getting. Though it was dusk, there were many people still walking along the streets who filled many of the buildings.
“It’s the examination,” Rythe said. “It brings people from every corner of Illia.”
Before they left the main road into the city, Dalbus stopped the cart then said, “Okay, children.” Both Dalbus and Nareete stood up then walked down from the front, onto the ground, to the back of the cart.
“This is where we say our goodbyes,” Dalbus said. “If you’ll walk the rest of the way, we have a long journey ahead of us before we sleep.”
“Mother!” Ansa hopped down and embraced Nareete. “I will miss you.”
Nareete smiled, “Ansa, you’re going to do wonderfully.”
Clal jumped down from the cart then Rythe did the same.
Clal turned to his Father. “Does this mean I’m finally a man, going
to work in the blacksmith’s shop making swords and all?”
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Both Dalbus and Turl burst out laughing. “Well, Clal,” his father said, “at thirteen I believe you’ll be there soon enough.” His father looked at Clal and winked.
“In fact, when I was your age I was...” his father started to say.
“...building one boat a week for the Illian naval fleet, living on my own, free as can be.” Clal and Ansa both finished his sentence in unison and they all four burst out in a fit of laughter. Rythe just watched.
After they said their goodbyes and watched as the cart turned a corner into the trees, Rythe asked, “Where to first?”
“To Gwynn the seamstress. It’s on the edge of town near Ordon’s wood works.” She said, “Do you know where that is?”
“Yes,” Rythe said, “I do.”
They meandered around the streets of the city, dusk having turned into night. They eventually stopped in front of Gwynn’s shop door.
<< left off here: 9/11 >>
Through the window two candles were burning on a large wooden table in the middle of the room. An old woman was needling away at some fabric. She looked up, noticed she had visitors, then stood from her chair and approached the door. She opened the door, then said addressing Ansa.
“Hello. Are you Ansa Winden?”
“Yes, I am.”
“I have been anxiously awaiting your arrival.” Gwynn smiled
widely. Ansa hesitated.
“You’ll be fine,” Clal said as he embraced his sister. “We’ll visit
each other often.” Clal smiled then winked. “I’ll be back in just three days from now to see how you’re getting along.”
Ansa looked up into Clal’s blue eyes, “Okay, Clal. That’s not too long from now, I guess.” Ansa said.
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Ansa gave Clal another squeeze then walked toward Gwynn. She turned and waved to Rythe who smiled back.
“Don’t forget to come see me before you leave.” She said winking.
“You?” Rythe smiled, “I wouldn’t miss it, Ansa.”
Gwynn walked toward Ansa and wrapped her arm around her and said, “I have no doubt you and I will become fast friends.”
Ansa smiled, “Oh Gwynn, I like you already.” Ansa turned and waved again to Clal then she disappeared behind the shop door.
Rythe turned from Gwynn’s door and Clal followed. “So, you know where the blacksmith shop if from here then, Rythe?” Rythe nodded as he took Clal down a city street where many other boys were running rampant with laughter and great excitement. They turned down several streets and passed many short and tall buildings.
It wasn’t long before Clal said to Rythe, “I miss her already, Rythe. Can you believe we’ve never been apart until now?”
Rythe looked down and nodded slowly, “You are good to her, Clal. A true friend.” He smiled.
Then Rythe stopped walking and looked at Clal. “Something tells me though, Clal, that she’s made of iron, your sister. And that there’s more to her than what one might see from the outside looking in.”
Rythe clapped Clal on the back as they resumed their journey through the streets of Eldan Vyum.
As they passed by endless buildings and walked by nameless faces, all that Clal could think about was his beloved twin sister, Ansa, and how right Rythe was.
Ansa was an incredible individual and they were truly inseparable. Their days had been spent, not climbing apple trees in their orchards, surprisingly, but fighting dragons in the clouds and escaping shapeless thieves in the forest shadows. Sticks became
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swords and leaves became golden coins. And the great Crescent- Keep Mountain was their castle fortress.
They knew each other’s thoughts and often felt each other’s feelings. And, though he resented her for her witty ways and overly keen abilities, those really were the things he liked most about her. Clal smiled as he remembered the rock with the seaweed as hair, and how he had fallen for it.
“My, Ansa,” Clal whispered. He shook his head and chuckled.
A few more feet and they arrived in front of the blacksmith’s shop. “This is it,” Rythe said, “though it is all dark inside. I’m sure this is the place. I’d know it anywhere...”
Both Clal and Rythe stood in front of old shop with their mouths wide open. Clal walked toward Tallon’s shop and knocked on the door. They waited, then Rythe knocked, but the result was the same. Silence.
“I don’t think there’s anyone here, Rythe.”
“No,” Rythe said, “it looked so different from when I was here last.” Rythe looked through the dirt laden front window. Clal walked around the side of the building then came back in a moment.
“Rythe, I don’t know the last time anyone has been here.” Clal said. “What am I to do now?”
“You can stay with me at the inn until we figure out what you’re going to do.” Rythe said. “The inn, Clal?”
“I suppose,” Clal said reluctantly.
“Right then. The inn is this way,” Rythe said pointing.
Rythe heaved his pack on his back then began to march down
the cobblestone road. Clal was at his heels. There were less people now and more dark windows as they ventured through the city during the night hours. They soon reached the inn. Rythe turned the doorknob of the front door and they both entered.
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They spoke with the innkeeper and purchased a room with two beds for the night. There were boys everywhere, in the hallways, on the stairs and in the dining area.
“We must have taken the last available room.” Rythe said.
Clal and Rythe reached the end of a hall and stood by a door. Rythe unlocked the door with the key the innkeeper had given him. He opened the door and they both entered the room. It wasn’t long till there was a knock at their door.
“Who is there,“ Rythe said.
“Morry, the innkeeper.”
Rythe opened the door to the room revealing a short middle
aged man with a round face.
“Pardon the interruption sirs, but one of you dropped your pack
when you came in a moment ago?”
Sure enough, Rythe’s pack was missing. He was the one who
talked with the innkeeper. He must have set it down.
“Thank you, Morry.” Rythe said.
“My pleasure,” Morry said. “I’ll be off now. Good evening.”
The door had almost shut when Rythe shouted, “Wait, Morry!” Morry’s head popped back in the room.
“Tallon the blacksmith, have you seen him? Has he come to your
inn lately?” Rythe said.
“Old Tallon?” Morry said. “Oh, no. I haven’t heard a tall tale from
him since...” Morry scratched his beard, “...since three months back. And he used to be my best customer, too.”
“Thank you,” Rythe said and Morry closed the door behind him.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Clal said. “It just doesn’t make any sense. How can I be an apprentice to a missing blacksmith?”
All Rythe could do was shake his head. He laid down, rolled onto his side and was breathing heavily in a moment.
Clal, on the other hand, refused to sleep. He remained sitting up on his bed looking out at the night sky. The crescent moon that hung
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from the star speckled sky reminded him of Lyrune, and he slipped away into dreams of Crescent Keep Mountain where the days were innocent and free.
ELDAN VYUM - 65 MILES AWAY
Ch 1
Apple Cart - 6 mph - 11 hours (including 1 watering stop at the river)
Day 1 - August 5th - Leave at 8am - 5pm = 8 hours = 48 miles
- sleep at the river
Ch 2
River lady of light
Ch 3
Day 2 - August 6th - Leave around 6am again
3 hours 17…18 miles to Eldan Vyum.
What else comes up?
——the twins open up their wooden boxes in front of Rythe…???
The roll into Eldan Vyum around 9am - still morning
Setup early to get best spot.
Take 2 hours.
11am…They leave the three (Turn, Gree, Mina)
Go to Gwynn.
Greetings and leave Ansa.
Go to Blacksmith. Not there.
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