Hanor stood watchful, the great storm in the distance approaching, so terrible with its destruction. Tearing up the earth as it came, below, the field moaned as if alive. Convulsing, blood seeped higher out of the ground covering his feet. The earthquake, far stronger now, rattled him as the huge cavern opened again. Teetering, the great booming voice juddered the hillside. “HELP ME NOW!”
Sitting up, Hanor gasped for air, the darkness about him intensifying the dream. So life-like, shame caressed him for daring to wake from the nightmare. Tainted by guilt, demanding he should do more, time pressed him, urging action.
Confused, had he not committed himself enough already? Getting a glimpse of just how serious this was, there was no room for the complacent boy of yester-turn. Annoyed at the subtle impressions urging him to move, clambering out of bed, were The Sacred unimpressed by his efforts? Frowning at using that term, it came too easily for his liking.
Putting on his over-gown in the early morning chill, uncertain what stage of the night it was, he went downstairs for something to eat. Tempted to wake Nole to unburden himself before his travels, he decided against it, knowing his younger brother would shackle him until he got answers. Hampered by his dreams, his waking life was no different. He was about to break his brother’s heart.
Entering the Kitchen, a lamp was aglow on one of the large polished stone tables. Movement from within one of the huge larders stalled Hanor. If it was Nole, what would he say? Gulping, his brother surely deserved more from him?
Thumping pressures increased, trying to catch any familiar sounds to whom it might be. It could be his mother. If there was ever a time he needed her, it was now, her strength reassuring during periods of crisis. That was another reason why he felt as he did. To see her in such a vulnerable state alarmed him to what he was actually about to do. She knew more than he, was that why she was so afraid? Were there dangers that even Brandor was not prepared to reveal?
Another clink from behind the large wooden door alerted him back to the present. Thoughts of sneaking out teased him. Determined to stand his ground, if it was a member of his family, then a final good-bye outweighed any potential complications.
A dropped pan made him jump. Cursing, a hiss echoed around the large Kitchen. Whoever it was, they were doing their utmost to stay quiet. Before he could react, the person came out.
“I presumed it was you,” the mysterious figure of Kifter said, unperturbed by Hanor’s presence. Loaded with food and supplies, he shrugged as if the clatter had nothing to do with him. “I did not touch it of course, someone must have stacked it wrong. My failure was not catching it.” Placing the supplies on the table, his movements were nimble and quiet.
“Do you always blame other people?” Hanor said, forcing a degree of mirth to fend off anxieties. Relieved yet saddened that it was not his brother, he was now approaching the point of no return.
The Fife grinned, thin curving lips cutting into his cheeks. “Not the best way to convince you of my abilities. I promise you…, things will get better.” Turning, he tripped over the doorstop. Feigning disgust, Kifter winked, meaning it as a joke.
“Do you require a quiet hand?” Hanor teased. With no emotional turmoil to deal with, good humour was what he needed.
“This is the last of it,” the Fife said, glancing towards the exit. “It is good that you are up, your Kyboe is waiting outside.”
“My… kyboe?”
“Unless you wish to walk to Tarden?”
“Er… no, of course not. I did not know I had one.”
“The honourable Rainer has set it aside for you.”
“Rainer…?” Thoughts of his father’s second in command had escaped him since returning to Manson.
“Yes…, a solid fellow, and likable. The Kyboe he chose is a good one.”
“When do we leave?” Hanor asked, the jitters getting the better of him.
“I thought you might insist on kisses and farewells from your nearest before we leave. Not that I am insensitive, but it can be most awkward.”
“I would have wanted to in the past, but this secrecy takes some getting used to.”
“The family life has its demands,” acknowledged the Fife. “A free spirit is hard to tie down once it has been granted room to fly. Those left behind are the ones who suffer. To be free is to be alive.”
“I just want to get started. If I think about what I am doing, it may stop me.”
“Doubts can be destructive,” Kifter said, checking over the supplies before picking them up. again “Shall we see what the morning has in store for us?”
Hesitating, a rush of fear grabbed Hanor. Was he really doing this? Refusing to think about Nole and Bane, “I need my clothes,” he said. He had not even freshened up.
“Your mother has already taken care of it. Here!” He pointed towards a low bench loaded with various articles of clothing. “I have spared you embarrassment by removing the bed clothes.” Smirking, he exited the Kitchen. “Other necessities have already been packed.” The door closed behind him, a last line of defence from the ominous world outside.
Haunting, an eerie silence closed in on Hanor, an invisible barrier to his future. Checking the neatly folded clothing, a new dusty orange hide-skin overcoat was the most notable item. New boots made from the toughest of skins waited for that final step of no return. He was going to miss them.
When ready, Hanor walked outside. Halting, Kifter was talking to someone. To his relief, Rainer’s voice hummed through the half-light.
“Well Hanor, it is good to see you ready like I taught you,” Rainer said, half-hidden features grinning.
“As ready as I can be,” he said, falling in beside Kifter who was still packing.
The Fife’s Kyboe was crouching, unconcerned with its master’s activities. “Rainer has mentioned about your commendable efforts,” Kifter said, fastening the final strap before checking the other bags. “A credit to you.”
“I feel better for it,” Hanor said, wishing Rainer could come with them. “I have not even thanked you.”
“The reward is mine,” Rainer said. “I hope it will serve you well. Your mother has still not forgiven me, but I am sure she will come round.”
They laughed.
“I wish we could have got to know each other better,” Hanor said, an idea forming. “On my return…, perhaps you can teach me more. Not quite as severe though.”
“It is the harsh lessons from which we learn most,” Rainer said. “I accept your request nonetheless.”
Stretching, Hanor felt a shade of apprehension bite him. This was happening so fast. Mixed loyalties groaned as thoughts about his family tried to undo him one last time. Determined to do this, the experience by the lake with Brandor returned, the power and sense of life captivating. How could he not want more?
Muffled snorts from the two awaiting Kyboes jetted into the predawn, heralding their readiness. The Fife mounted effortlessly, Hanor’s confidence about the traveller from the south increasing. The incident in the Kitchen yester-turn supported the fact that he was in capable hands.
Tender aches did not deter Hanor, climbing onto his own Kyboe. Musty, animal sweat suggested his mount felt the anticipation too. Snorting, the Kyboe stood and stretched its two powerful legs. Rotating its huge block of a head, it looked up at the stars above to iron out stiff joints.
“A bit like how I feel,” Hanor said, taking hold of the reins.
Saying farewell, Kifter and Hanor started out towards the main gates. Querying why the guards were absent, Hanor halted, glancing behind one last time. Tinged with sadness, arched windows seemed sorrowful at the departure of one of Manson’s sons. Peering up at his room, his heart fluttered, certain two figures had stepped back. Hoping his parents would accept the decision he had made, what did they know that he did not? Waving to let them know he had seen them, he turned and continued out of the gate.
Working their way down the causeway, a few trade shops were preparing for a new turn of the day. Baking aromas drifted out to the two early riders, Hanor realising he had not eaten. Sporadic bangs and a loud cheery voice invaded the silence, cutting through the predawn setting.
Kifter was not in a talkative mood and neither was he. Watchful, ‘His work begins now,’ Hanor supposed, remembering why the Fife was here in the first place. An escort to Tarden, his escort, self-importance reared its ugly head, but he discarded such notions. Not enjoying his birthright, the Fife did not strike him as one who bowed to positions of privilege anyway, just how he wanted it.
Reaching the central Market, empty stalls added to the eerie atmosphere. Passing a closed stand, two charcoal kyboes snorted at their intrusion. Standing between a wagon and the stall, fierce eyes warned them to stay back.
Detouring away, Kifter signalled for Hanor to do the same, not taking any risks. “Strange,” he whispered. “I did not detect them.”
Unsure how to react to the admittance, Hanor let the Fife ride protectively on the inside. Disliking such surprises, the tent behind them showed no signs of life. The two dark kyboes scrutinised their passing, an edge to Kifter creeping in. Heading down the main road without further cause for alarm, they left the unsavoury creatures behind.
Pulling back the flap of his tent just when the two figures disappeared behind a building, ‘A Fife and a young man!’ Billor wondered, his two faithful servants alerting him to their arrival. Stepping out onto the road, never forgetting a face, the boy was local, but not the Fife.
When the two passed from view, Billor returned to his tent, patting the two bulky animals chewing on grass. “I know,” he said. “Suspicion is our work my lovelies. Yes…, it was a little unusual…, let us keep our eyes open today.” With dawn approaching, it was time to set up the stall.
Halting to appreciate the view, Kifter and Hanor took a moment from their ride, the breeze temperate and refreshing at this time of the morning. Another opportunity for the young Heir to consider what he was actually doing, the sun seemed just as hesitant on the horizon. Casting long sinewy shadows across the undulating terrain in front, down and across to their right chimneys billowed trails of smoke across the low valley. Huddled between grand trees and the surrounding hillside, the Cropping Village of Sorle was half-hidden under the early morning mist, preparing for another turn of day in the fields. Lara lived somewhere close. Never visiting her home, Hanor promised to change that on his return.
Continuing along the beaten track, the Croppers were not up; unsurprising considering their late night activities. Renowned for their work and play philosophy, it permitted the two riders a welcomed solace. Riding between ploughed fields, different crops imbued rich colours and contrast; browns and greens mingling with faded reds and yellows. Large berry bushes lining each side of the road were home to an abundance of wildlife, creatures like Fliryns and Gombols, Rassers and Finks. Bane, Nole and Hanor had been this way several times camping. One of many jaunts as adolescents, a favourite pastime was to disrupt the Croppers. Falling foul to their wrath, only to move on and lark about elsewhere, they had been good times. Nevertheless, Hanor was glad to have outgrown it, at last emerging into the real world.
Scattered clouds roving above seemed a long way from any future troubles. Brandor’s warnings about Dark Forces brought Hanor’s haunting dreams to mind, and so too the doubts about his actions. Not needing it right now, he focussed instead on his experience by the lake when Brandor had lit up his whole world. Just by redirecting his attention, the rhythms of his heart changed, a lasting peace rising. Not as dramatic as his original awakening, it was still enough to appreciate.
Stopping for an early meal, hunger demanding attention, Kifter and Hanor sat under a low-lying biddel tree to rest. The cropping fields were long gone, replaced by oceans of wild-grass, flowers, and islands of bush and tree. The sun was up, beaming its wonder.
Behaving as if he had not eaten for a few turns, Kifter gave Hanor a stark warning. “When venturing into the unknown, be wise in word and deed. Eating… is a deed. To continue as you are, we will run out of food within a few turns. Take your time, and be patient. Your hunger does not need as much food as it pretends. Give it a while, and your appetite will cease. What you have already eaten should last you until tonight.”
Taken aback, Hanor stopped eating. “Berries, quaner and datter milk…. are not what I would call a meal.”
“You will have to do it the hard way then,” Kifter said. “Believe me, you will have to learn to control your appetite. It is lying when it demands more. Be patient and watch.”
“Watch what?”
“Your appetite. Just think about other things and the hunger will subside.”
“Are you serious?”
“Pack away the rest, the salt-liner will keep it well.”
Hanor hesitated.
“Do you want to learn or not?” Kifter frowned. An arduous journey this could be. “Put them away.”
Hanor’s under-breath moan was quickly retorted by his elder.
“Do you wish to do this on your own?”
“No…, it just seems peculiar. To quench a hunger… you feed it. To not feed it will leave you hungry.”
“That is the difference between you and me,” Kifter said. “You come to a conclusion before you have even tried it. To be wise is to be open to all possibilities.”
Brandor had asked for his trust, did not Kifter deserve the same? “All right…, I will try it,” Hanor said, competitiveness rising just as it had when put to the test by Rainer.
“Good,” Kifter said, rising. “Let us be on our way.”
Grumbling, “I am still a tired, I did not sleep well last night. Can we not rest a while longer?”
“I think not.” The Fife was unmoved, packing away his things. Remounting, without waiting, Kifter kicked off back towards the mud road.
Disgruntled at his new guide, after surviving Rainer, the idea of bowing to another of a similar kind was grim.
Motionless, Nole sat and waited. Concealed within one of numerous cupboards lining his parents’ bedroom wall, they had forced him into this. If only they had told him what was going on, he might have accepted what had been decided. Not wanting him to find Hanor, what choice did he have but resort to spying? Beside himself with worry, they were both to blame.
Entering Hanor’s room earlier bent on getting answers, to see him gone had been the final strain. Incensed, searching everywhere prior to charging into his parents’ room, both had been sitting on the balcony, dressed as if they had been up all night. Tear-lined expressions had not hidden their upset. Holding back, his pleas had once again hit that wall of avoidance. “He has gone away for a while,” was all they would say. Why were they treating him like a boy?
Throughout the morning, he had asked many if they knew of Hanor’s whereabouts. Disbelieving his brother could act like this, up until now they had been so close. Something was up, for Hanor would not do this to him. How serious was it?
Voices drawing near captured Nole’s attention. Daring to believe this might work, his father and mother entered the bedroom discussing Hanor. Past half-turn of the day, the atmosphere was tight. Returning to their room to change into formal attire before entertaining guests who were arriving later, Nole waited out of sight as the two people he loved started changing, unaware of his presence.
“I still want to send some of our finest men after them to make sure their passage is secure,” Manon said, restless.
“That is not what Brandor wanted,” Lizan replied, the calmer of the two.
Nole did not need to look, the exchange filtering into his hiding place.
“It is a long journey,” Manon said.
“Kifter is more than qualified for the task.”
“I do not doubt his abilities, it is the dangers out there that concern me.”
“My love,” Lizan said, sensitive to his concerns. “If we do not let go, this will consume us. He is out of our hands, how many times have we discussed this?”
“I wish I had your strength.”
“His journey is on a different path now.”
Sounds of them sitting on the bed reached Nole, his pulse racing. Imploring them to say those vital words about Hanor’s whereabouts, the waiting was unbearable.
“We have to consider Nole,” Lizan continued. “He needs us now more than ever. This is tearing him apart. We have a bridge to build if he is ever going to trust us again.”
“When should we tell him?”
“A few turns yet,” his mother said. “We dare not reveal where he has gone. You know how close they were, to lose one son is hard, but to lose two!”
“Why do you say lose, you have not said that before?”
“Oh my dearest love, you still do not get it do you?”
“This goes back to his birth does it not?” Manon wavered.
The question was unanswered, Nole knew they were cuddling each other.
“We have done our part,” she said, soothing his woes.
“Why Tarden though…? Why does he need to go there?”.
Rebounding around the room before returning to a shocked Nole, he could hardly believe his cheeky plan had worked. Tarden, a place far away to the west was the home of the Tardanian People. A fascination with old maps when he was young, that interest now rewarded him with a welcomed insight. Overwhelming, the relief consuming him drew tears, the burden finally lifting from his worn shoulders.
“You have to let go, my love,” his Mother continued.
“It is hard,” Manon said rising, going to the wardrobe adjacent to Nole’s hiding place.
Heart stopping, if they were to discover him, what could he say? Pulling some clothing from the adjacent cupboard, his father returned to the bed to change, adding nothing more before they left the room.
The hidden figure did not move. If caught here they would bind him to Manson. They were right of course, how could he stay when his brother was out there on his own? Someone called Kifter was accompanying him, but by their own words, dangers were very real. What dangers did not matter, he would go after them anyway. Understanding his parents’ caution, it did not justify their lack of respect.
A quiver of excitement touched him. Deciding a plan was needed, every moment was precious, separated by the long step of a Kyboe. He had to be quick. Checking all was safe before exiting the room, he had to tell Bane. Making a pact to get to the bottom of this, it was only right his friend should know, he would want to come too.
“I will go to the old Book-hall and find a map,” Nole said, finding Bane soon after leaving his parents’ bedroom. Sitting in their Leisure Room, it was the only safe place to share the discovery. Bane’s glee echoed his own when laying out the plan.
“And I will make ready two Kyboes,” Bane said, his excitement evident. Always ready for adventure, this one surpassed all others. “We will need supplies and spare clothing. How far did you say Tarben was?”
“Tarden,” Nole corrected him, laughing for the first time in what seemed like an age. “It is many turns, so make sure you prepare. No cakes, just dried, long-lasting food.”
“You forget…, I am the traveller here. I taught you…, remember?”
“This is not a game, we have to get it r