Chapter 1
A Princess
On one of the balconies Princess Janevra, Heir to the Throne, Princess of the Tower of the Light, Daughter of the Nation Caendor, and Child of the King, leaned over the rail and looked out across the city, ignoring her mother, Queen Eliza of Caendor, as she read from a thick red book.
Janevra sighed quietly. Her mind was anywhere but concentrating on her mother’s words. She was thinking about magic, wondering why her parents had never tested her to see if she had any Talent. She knew her mother despised shoi and her father didn’t care for them. But every child, save the very poor, were tested to see if they had any Talent. “Janevra, are you listening?”
“What? Oh, I’m listening, Mother. What were you saying?” replied Janevra, turning around. Straight auburn hair that fell past her shoulders outlined a freckled face. Naturally curved reddish-brown eyebrows and long dark eyelashes gave her wide-set green eyes a commanding presence. Full lips suppressed a smile. A blue silk dress clung to her slender, strong body. The neck of her blue dress stopped above her bosom but not enough to be called modest. Around her neck hung a necklace of pearls and diamonds. Slender fingers smoothed out a dress that didn’t need to be straightened.
“Janevra, how can I tell you Caendor’s history when you do not listen? You are the future Queen of this country. You need to know its past so you do not repeat preceding rulers’ mistakes.”
“Mother! I already know all of this. I’ve known it all since I was ten.”
The Queen shook her head. Her gray hair, that still held a few blonde strands, was piled up on her head, holding her crown in place. Paints and oils had been masterly applied to her cheeks and eyelids, emphasizing her delicate bone structure even more. Her face looked anything but delicate at the moment. Her light blue eyes could have melted ice, as she looked her daughter in the eye. Or tried to. Her daughter was four inches taller than her mothers five feet six inches.
“You will sit down and listen or I will get your father,” her mother said calmly.
Janevra could not resist a little laugh. “Mother, you know as well as I that Father does not approve of these lessons you give me. He won’t do anything.”
“Then behave yourself. It is rude not to listen while someone is trying to teach you.”
“I’ve read that book three times in the last two years. I know it by heart. There is nothing in there I don’t know.”
“Don’t presume you know everything, Janevra.”
“I’m not saying I know everything. My point is that I have been trained to be a ruler ever since I was born. It’s something I don’t understand,” Janevra said.
The Queen frowned. “Don’t understand?”
“Yes. In Caendor, a woman can never rule without a man. It has been the law for Ages. You know this. Why teach me when I must get married and hand over all power to my husband?”
“You don’t want to be educated?” the Queen asked.
Janevra sighed. “No. I want to be and I’m very glad that I am. But I am not naive, Mother. My education has extended far into areas most women in Caendor are never allowed to know. I only want to know why.”
“Someday you will know why I’ve gone to such lengths to make you one of the most educated persons in the Northern Kingdom. Very soon, things are going to change. I’m preparing you.”
“To rule without a king?”
“Yes.”
“What does Father think of that?”
“He promised me long ago that I would have complete control over your education. He has disapproved of it many times, but he is a man who keeps his promises.”
Janevra sat quietly for a while. “How did you know to prepare me to rule? What is going to change? Why did you teach me things I should never know?”
The Queen looked at Janevra, fear and worry etched across her face. “You need to know how to be the greatest ruler of all time. You need to know how to fight and win. You need to know how to sacrifice personal desires and not feel angered because you must. You need to know this and everything else that I have trained you in if you are to survive the coming years. You cannot rule until then.”
Janevra gazed at her mother through narrowed eyes. “I know how to rule a country, Mother. You’ve forced it on me since I was born. I know how to fight for my country and lead the people into battle. You had me trained to be a master of the sword and hold my own with other weapons. No other woman of privilege in Caendor knows what I know when it comes to war. The only thing I do not know is why you are afraid to let me rule. Most children are co-regents with their parents when they turn eighteen. What are you afraid of that’s holding you back? The Priests of the Light? I know their power was once greater than yours before I was born. Are you fearful of them regaining that power? I have not been tested in the Art of Magic. For all I know, I could be a shoi, a magic user. They hold no sway over me even if I did have the Talent, if that’s why you are worried. If it is not that, what are you afraid, Mother? What powers do you see that I do not?”
“There are powers awakening in this world that you would do good to fear, my daughter, especially considering your lineage and power. However, my fears do not concern you or your father.” Not yet, her tone seemed to imply.
Janevra lifted an eyebrow. “You are keeping secrets from father?”
The Queen snapped her book shut. “Our lesson is over.” Then, more quietly, “One day you will know the truth, Janevra. If I die before I can tell you, then search for the Knives of Thorn. They hold the secrets to our past. Go back to your room, the trials will begin soon and don’t mention any of this to your father.”
Janevra frowned as she turned her back to her mother. Her mother was worried and terrified about something and Janevra wanted to know what it was even if it meant provoking her mother. I wish you could tell me what it is you see and fear, Mother, she thought. I know, what ever it is, I can fight it. I love my people, and I would die for them but I need to know what enemy I am going to face. I need to know what you know.
Janevra closed the door behind her and proceeded down the hallway. She was halfway to her room, after taking the round-about way, when she came upon two guards dragging a prisoner through the hall. She lifted her dress and ran after them. “Stop!” she shouted, reaching them and holding up a hand.
“My Lady?” one of the guards asked.
“What are you doing with this man?”
The guards glanced at each other. “Ah…taking him to the captain for his beheading,” one of the guards answered.
“What is his crime? I’m sure since his penalty is death, he must have done something horrible. Is he a murderer, a rapist, a conspirator against the King?”
The guards shook their heads. “No, my lady,” they murmured.
Janevra put her hands on her hips. “What is he then?”
“A thief,” one said.
“A thief? When has my father beheaded a thief?”
“Never, my Lady.” They lowered their eyes, staring at the floor.
“Is this the captain’s doing?” she demanded.
They nodded.
Janevra frowned. One day the captain will go too far in disobeying my father’s wishes. “Let him go.”
The guards bent down and untied the thief’s wrists. The thief rubbed his arms, gawking at Janevra.
“I would run, sir. I may have saved your life, but the captain is not a man who likes losing.” Janevra pressed two gold chips into the thief’s hand. “Buy yourself some food and leave Jariran for a few days.”
The thief bowed low, pressed his lips to the floor and dashed off. The two guards watched him go.
“Now,” Janevra said. The guards faced her. “I want one of you to make sure the thief leaves and I want the other to deliver a message to the captain for me. Tell him I know he is disobeying my father’s wishes. It is wrong to kill those who have done nothing but try to survive. If he attempts to kill another innocent man and I hear of it, he will be held responsible.”
The guards bowed, their armor creaking. They set off at a march down the hallway.
Janevra waited for them to turn the corner before continuing to her room. Who does the captain think he is, deciding that those who only steal to survive should be killed? She was furious.
Walking up a flight of stairs, her anger cooled and Janevra was satisfied in saving at least one man from the captain. Maybe today at the trials she would save another.
Once inside her room, she slipped out of her high-heeled shoes. She set them on her bed and walked barefoot out on to her balcony. Leaning against the stone rail, she watched the city below her.
Janevra sighed. I wish I could be normal. Live a normal life, one where I could marry the love of my youth, have children, work hard and be happy. No, I will never have that. My parents will make me marry some fool lord and I will be stuck being the Queen to a king who holds no love for women. Not that I don’t want to help people. It’s just that I can’t live how I want to. I have no control. She couldn’t do many things that others took for granted. She had never been in the city without curtains surrounding her or guards blocking her view. What she wanted to do was go into the city where people wouldn’t see her as the princess, just some commoner.
Janevra turned away from the balcony and moved towards a chair where she sprawled in a most improper manner. What does my mother know? What is her fear? I can see it in her eyes whenever she looks at me.
“Princess, if your mother saw you she would have a fit.”
Janevra smiled and looked up at her maid. “I know, Sariah. Thanks for cleaning my clothes and putting them in the wardrobe.”
The gray haired maid walked out on to the balcony. “It’s my job, Princess, no need to thank me.” Sariah’s red dress and white apron gave the woman a homely appearance and her blue eyes brightness.
“ Eyath hmya’nxe olqo’ehz lmotwje,” Janevra replied.
Sariah raised her eyebrows. “My Lady?”
“You should always thank. I just finished learning elven,” Janevra said.
Sariah frowned. “I don’t see why, ‘tis a dead language, miss. No elves ever lived anyway.”
“I think they did. I found a book that taught me the ancient languages and since I have nothing else to do, I might as well learn.” Janevra smiled. “‘Learning is the power that makes all things possible, Lady Thysi,’” Janevra quoted.
Sariah shrugged and went back into Janevra’s room, hanging up several dresses in Janevra’s wardrobe.
Janevra followed her and plopped down on her bed. She propped herself up on her elbows.
“Can you tell me a tale of the old days? Please?”
The old maid looked up from dusting a bookshelf. “Aren’t you a little old, Princess?”
“Yes, but I do love to listen to your stories.”
Sariah smiled. “Alright, miss, if you say so. Let me see… In the Fifth age, called the Age of the First Dragons or the Third Battle by others, two young people arose. They grew up in a world of Evil, but their hearts remained pure. It’s believed they were gods in disguise, come to rid the world of the Evil that was power. In order to destroy the Evil, they gathered together the people of the Northern Kingdom to fight. It was the year ALD 3200 FD DD when two young people, a man and a woman, became the Dragons. The name was created because of their awesome ability in the Art of Magic and the way they commanded the love of the people. They had incredible power in magic and challenged the Warlord of that era. The battle was fought in the Gangga Pass. Good verse Evil, Light verse Dark. The battle was waged for three days. At times, the Light held the upper hand only to be thrown back down by the mightier power of the Dark. Many lost their lives, but good triumphed. The Dragons, who had managed to survive the battle, became the High King and Queen of the Northern Kingdom. Peace prospered even after their death and the Northern Kingdom became strong once again. But like all things, it came to an end. In the year ALD 3800 AD, Evil yet again tried to conquer all. It failed when the nations of the Northern Kingdom banded together and fought the Fourth Battle against Evil. When the war came to an end a new age arose out of the mists of destruction and the Hundred Years of Prophecies began. Then in the Year ALD 3900 AD on the first day of spring, the Second Dragons were born and the year became ALD 3900 SD. No one knew why the Dragons had been born for Evil had not shown its fingertips. But the time comes again when Evil grows and the Dragons’ power is once more demanded to conquer the Evil and throw everlasting light across the world.”
Sariah turned back to her work.
“That was good but a little vague and it sounded like a history lesson,” Janevra said, staring up at the ceiling, dreaming. She had always wished to live in the times when history was made.
“Forgive me, Princess. The stories of the Prophecies and the Dragons are always vague. Your parents saw to that. They didn’t want their rule stolen from them. When you become Queen you will understand the fear of having your power taken from you.”
Janevra looked up at her maid. “What of the stories before? The ancient stories about the past? Are those as vague?”
“You should know that, Princess, with all your history. Most of them are vague. Many things get lost in time, many important things.”
Silence settled and Sariah hummed gently to herself.
“I wish something interesting would happen around here. Such as battles and stunning victories.”
Sariah rounded on Janevra in barely contained fury. Her eyes were sharp. “Don’t ever let me hear you say that again. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Janevra bit her lip. “Sorry.”
Sariah softened. “All is well, Princess. You’ll understand what I mean some day.”
Janevra frowned. “Why did my parents not test me to see if I had any Talent in magic? Every child is tested, except the very poor. What were my parents frightened of? History shows the Priests are usually powerful shoi. They can come in handy during war.”
Sariah winced and faced the princess. “You were born in the Year of the Dragon and you were born on the first day of spring, a day when magic is at its strongest. Your parents were afraid that you would be taken from them and raised in the Hall of the Mages. At that time, the priests had more power than the King and Queen and your parents did not want the shoi to get more power. It threatened their rule.”
“But now there seems to be no tension between the two,” Janevra observed. It made no sense. Why did it not continue?
“That is because with the birth of the Dragons and the prophecy being proven, the priests have had more pressing matters.”
“Prophecies? Have the Dragons truly returned?”
“Don’t waste your time, Princess. It’s just a bunch of pig wallow if you ask me.”
The maid left the room, her wide skirts rustling.
Janevra picked a book off a table near her bed, still wondering of the Prophecies. She found where she left off in her book and started reading, deciding that she would look into the Prophecies some time soon.
“Calahadar was an ancient city, now in ruins. It was that city that created the Great Sword of Hadar out of Black Iron and the fiery metal furipyr, a metal forged only in the deep mines of Huyak, the Dwarven capital. Also created in Calahadar was the white ball perched on top of the White Staff of Jayapur, forged of furipyr. The greatest city of time fell to the forces of Evil in ALD 2801 AD AE. It was the last stronghold of good before everything fell to the Shadow.
Janevra shuddered. She could almost feel the icy reach of the shadow caress her back. Perhaps I should wish for peaceful times instead of war, she thought and continued to read.
“The city was built by the elves in the Age of Magic. It was believed that the elves were trying to create a city that would never fall into ruin or be destroyed by the forces of Evil. In their attempts to create an immortal city, they also discovered an amulet called the Hawk, the Hand and the Eye that had the power to bring men back to the Light. The amulet’s other powers have long been lost. Many say it was the amulet that stole elven immortality but when asked about this, the elves said, ‘the Ancients stole our gift from Fate and Time. They stole our immortality and used it to hide and protect the Books of Power. We will never reclaim our gift. The Books are lost as are we.’ Many attempts over the centuries have been made to find the Books of Power but all have failed. None know where to look but the promise of the ultimate power that lies within the books is enough to drive men mad in search for it.”
Closing the book, Janevra gazed down into the city, her eyes landing on one of the beautiful temples of the Light. From her perch, the white stone of the temple flashed in the sun like a thousand jewels. She had always wanted to see if she had any Talent in the Art of Magic, but her parents had forbidden her long ago that if she were ever to test herself, they would disinherit her. She figured that since she did not have any siblings, they could not disinherit her. It would be the downfall of her family’s dynasty. One day I’ll test myself, and I’ll see what hidden powers I have that my mother fears.
Somewhere within the palace, a bell tolled, it’s ring spreading through the palace like a soft breath of air. Janevra groaned. Every day she had to attend the trials and listen to the prisoners’ plea for their lives. She knew by some instinct which ones lied and which ones spoke the truth.
Her father had made a law several years ago that commanded everyone of royal blood to listen to men’s pleas when they were accused of certain charges. Those of royal blood then decided if the man was innocent or guilty. The least amount of people of royal blood needed on a trial was three. Since there were only three in the ruling family, Janevra had to be present. She did not mind the trials, but the amount of men the guards brought in who were actually innocent was appalling. There were way too many and that meant the true thieves or murders escaped.
Janevra hurried into her room, quickly setting her book back in its place on her bookshelf. She hastily slid her feet into her shoes and ran a brush through her hair before pinning it up in a bun.
Running out her door and into the anteroom, she collided with a young guard coming to tell her that her presence was required in the Tower of the Light. They fell down in a helpless heap.
The guard jumped up, his face rigid in terror. “Princess! I- I did not see you! I’m so-so sorry, Princess.” Panic made his voice squeak.
Janevra got up, a little dizzy. “No, no, it’s alright. I was not paying attention.” She looked up at him and smiled. “Next time I will be more careful.”
The young guard blushed to his hairline. He mumbled something, but Janevra did not catch it. He bowed low and held the door of the anteroom open for her.
Janevra thanked him, walking swiftly down the hall. She was half way to the Tower where the trials were held, when she passed a white robed man wearing a bronze belt. The man, a priest, noticed her and bowed low. “Princess,” he said.
“Sir,” Janevra said, curious. She had never seen a priest in the palace before. “What is your business here in the palace?” If my father has finally agreed to see them, this means their respect is once again rising. I wonder what this means.
The priest clutched a scroll in his hand. He glanced down at it, clearing his throat. “I had a meeting with the King, Princess. The Priests of the Light are eager to show that we have no intention of taking away his power. More pressing matters are concerning us at the moment, and we do not have the time to dally in political matters.”
“What matters, sir?”
“The Priests of the Light are searching for the Dragons. We need to find them soon, Princess, before the year’s end. Without them the Evil that will rise in the south will conquer the Northern Kingdom unhindered.”
“Sir, if it is the will of the gods, do you not think the Dragons will be found when the gods will them to be found? History has proven to us that the gods twist the realm of mortals to their liking. What would stop them from waging their undying war against each other?”
“I believe your words hold truth.” The priest eyed her shrewdly. “You will be a great Queen, Princess. One who will rise above the other leaders of this nation. Yours will be the name that goes down forever in the history books of all the nations. It is a pity you have not been tested.”
Janevra smiled. “When I am Queen, I will command all men and women to be tested in the Art to see if they can become shoi and the Second Age of Magic will dawn.”
The priest of the Light nearly clapped his hands in joy, his face creasing into happy wrinkles. “A great cause for a great Queen, Princess. But I warn you, when you are Queen, this will not be the same land you know now. War is coming.” The priest bowed, turned on his heel and continued down the hall.
Janevra stared at him, his words ringing in her head like the tolling of the palace bell. War is coming.
Shaken, Janevra walked down the hallway, slowly making her way to the Tower of the Light.
Reaching the bronze doors that lead to the inside of the Tower of the Light, Janevra gently pushed them open. She looked up at her mother and father as they sat up on the dais, the golden thrones at their backs.
War is coming.
Chapter 2
A Peasant
Mat Trakall wiped the sweat from his forehead, leaning upon the shovel. He surveyed his work, grimacing to himself. One person can only do so much, he thought.
He bent down to his work, the warm sun of spring beating down on his back. Digging several holes, he went back over them, sprinkling the seeds into them.
It was late in the year for planting, but the winter had been long and had killed all their seeds planted in the ground last fall. The wheat would grow, but it would be a small harvest, barely enough for his family to get by.
As he planted the seeds, anxiety welled up in him. What if we don’t have enough? Mat thought. What if the harvest is so poor we can’t get by? We only have two pigs we can kill and our cattle are too thin to butcher. What will happen to my family? Mat paused in his work. Maybe I could become a soldier in the King’s Army. That would surely pay for my family. It would support them in the hard times. Or maybe I could take up a trade. I like building. Maybe I could go Jariran and work in the wharf there and build riverboats for the King.
Mat shoved the worrisome thoughts from his mind, focusing on his work. Dig, plant, and cover, over and over again until the whole field was planted. It would take him all day.
Mat worked through the hot hours of the day; sweat drenching his homemade shirt and breeches. His hair clung to his head and dripped with sweat. He looked up for a moment, judging the distance he had covered. I’m almost done.
As he finished, he thought of the gossip he had heard his mother and father talking about. It dealt with war in the east and strange things roaming the land at night, things such as sylai and rogui, creatures from a bard’s tale. Yet he failed in believing that war and sylai were real as he failed to believe the talk concerning the Dragons and Warlord. Things like that only happened in the stories.
A shadow fell across Mat. Looking up into the hazel eyes of his father, Mat shook his head. “Father, you should be in bed. You’re sick. Mother will put up a fit if she sees you up.”
His father, a big man with dark brown ringlets for hair and slumped shoulders, laughed heartily before coughing himself to silence. “Don’t worry, son, your mother won’t catch me. She’s gone to the neighbors to see if they need anything in the city that you can pick up when you go tomorrow.”
Mat felt a thrill run through him. He had never been to Jariran before and the excitement of setting foot in the city made his blood run.
Mat’s house was twenty miles away from Jariran. His father was a farmer of wheat who usually made the trips to the city. Considering his father was coming down with a sickness and in no mood for traveling, Mat finally got his chance to travel to the most beautiful city in the world. The one bards told stories of and children dreamed of seeing. Jariran, the City of Jewels.
“What’s the city like, Father?” Mat asked.
His father smiled. “You will see, son. Words cannot describe its beauty.”
“Words cannot describe it or you do not know the words to describe it?” Mat jested, a grin spreading across his face.
His father cuffed him softly over the head. “Respect your elders, son. One day you’ll be one and I won’t be around to protect you from little children’s jests.”
Mat laughed with his father, enjoying the moment.
Shaking off the last bit of mirth, Mat finished the last row of wheat, his father watching him placidly. His work done, Mat carried the shovel and bag of wheat seeds back to the house.
“Father,” Mat called over his shoulder. “Have you noticed strange footprints in the dirt lately? When I came out this morning, there were tracks that were made by some type of creature all over the place. I tried to figure out what kind of animal made such tracks but I couldn’t.”
“Tracks? What kind of tracks?” his father asked, walking behind Mat.
“They were odd, almost like a human’s but large, wider and they only had four toes. You could tell by the impressions in the dirt that those creatures were carrying something heavy. The only thing heavy enough that I can think of to imprint the tracks like that would be armor. Very thick armor, Father.”
“That’s interesting. If you see any more, show them to me. I think I know what they are, but I’m not sure.”
“What do you think they are?”
“I will tell you when I know for sure, son. No use upsetting you.”
Mat leaned against the house, waiting for his father to catch up.
His father came up, looking worried and older than usual. “Mat, I have something I need to tell you.” He sat down on a bench next to the house, motioning to the seat next to him. Mat obeyed his father and waited patiently as another coughing fit took his father.
Clearing his throat and issuing a short cough, Mat’s father looked down at him, pain hidden behind his eyes. “It is not easy for me to tell you this, Mat. It’s a secret I’ve carried with myself since my father died. Your mother doesn’t even know of it.”
Mat winced. Secrets were deadly. He knew from experience. He had once, seven years ago, gone with a group of friends to the Caendor River to swim. It was a hot summer day and they had all finished their chores. As they splashed in the river, one of Mat’s friends dared him to set fire to the old farmhouse a half mile down river. Mat had declined and gone home soon after that. The next day, news reached his family of a fire spreading down river at a fast speed. Men and women worked side by side to control the fire before it reached the small town not far from the old farmhouse. Sadly, the fire, helped by gusts of wind, destroyed the town and eventually died out a mile away from the burnt town. Several people were severely burned, and soldiers from Jariran were sent out to find the culprits. Mat knew it was his friends who had started the fire, but when the soldiers came to his house, he denied that he knew who did it. He did not want his friends to suffer the punishment of prison, which tended to end in death. The soldiers never found the perpetrators but the guilt of lying destroyed Mat. For weeks, he was nervous of someone discovering the truth and blaming him for covering up for his friends. His mother noticed something was wrong and confronted him about it. He told her everything. His punishment for lying was harsh but later she said keeping the secret, as much as it tormented him, saved the lives of his friends.
Mat’s father sighed. “I should tell you the more important of the two. I—”
Mat held up his hand. “Two, Father? You’ve kept two secrets from mother?”
His father shook his head. “She knows one. As much as I regret doing it, she deserved to know even if it did hurt her.” Taking a deep breath, his father continued. “I told her a month before you were born and she took it poorly, as I expected her to but—”
Shaking his head, Mat stood up. “I don’t want to know, Father. I don’t want to know either of them. Secrets tear people apart and I like things the way they are.”
Mat’s father smiled forlornly. “I understand your fear. But hear this, my line ends with you. You will not have a son or a daughter to carry on our blood. You will die before you can create a child. Our race will continue, but not our direct blood. One of my secrets lies in our blood and who our ancestors were.”
“How do you know this?” Mat felt a shiver crawl down his back. “Why do you believe that I will not survive to have a child?”
“You born on the day of Dragon Birth, Mat. No matter what you want to do, destiny will make you do what it wants you to do. The gods have once again dipped their hands into the masses of humanity. Our times are at an end, and it all starts will you, my son, you and two more people somewhere in the world. It is you who will dance to the strings of the gods, while making all other living things dance on the strings you create. When you were born, I kept you, selfishly, from taking the Test of the Robe. I did not want you taken from me, Mat. I knew if you took that test, the priests would steal you from me.” His father sat quietly for a moment. He looked up at Mat in anguish, a wheeze from a suppressed cough whispering from his lips. “Do you wish for me to continue?”
Mat sunk back down on the bench. “Tell me.” The things his father was saying kept turning over in his mind and one thought kept resurfacing. Who am I?
“I have powers and strengths unfathomable to the Priests of the Light who study the Art of the Magic. I have powers I have not even discovered yet. One day you will find your powers and the two in the world who are equal to you in strength. I do not wish to burden you with this knowledge but I must say it. You are—”
Mat’s mother’s shrill voice carried to them outside. “Mat! Where is your father! Tell him to get in here this instant! He is sick and in no condition to be outside!”
Mat smiled weakly as his father slowly got up and went indoor. “We will talk when you come back from the City, my son,” his father said as he walked through the door.
Leaning against the house, Mat pondered what his father had said, trying to figure what his father was trying to get at. The only thing he could decide on was that his father was not who he said he was and knew things that very few people knew.
The sun was beginning to set, casting orange and yellow into the white clouds. The buzz of insects arose from the dusk as night creatures took the place of daytime creatures. The smell of food drifted to Mat through the open window, making him aware of his appetite.
“Look, boys, it’s Mat Trakall,” a voice yelled.
Mat twisted just in time to fend off three young men trying to slap him on the back in greetings. Their slaps were always a little harder than necessary.
“Hello, Jordan, Irrik, Breon,” Mat said.
All three young men were around the age of Mat. Jordan was the tallest of the three with straight blonde hair, thousands of freckles and much too skinny to be healthy. He had a long nose that twitched whenever he was irritated. Irrik was the opposite, pudgy and round with twinkling brown eyes and red cheeks. Breon was Mat’s height, had large green eyes and tied his long brown hair back in a ponytail. He had a small scar on his forehead from his sister who had pushed him into a table when he was five. They all wore old and patched clothes, the common garb of a farmer. Mat and his friends had known each other since a young age and lived in the same area, each sons of farmers.
They sat down on the bench but Irrik took a chair next to the bench, insisting he didn’t want to break the bench with his added weight.
“Mat Trakall, goes to the big city,” Jordan said, punching his friend lightly on the shoulder.
“Gods, I wish I could go,” Breon said. “Apparently the goddess of Light doesn’t favor me.” He grinned up at the sky, shaking his head.
“I don’t want to go to the city,” Irrik said. The other three stared at him, causing him to shift uncomfortable. “Everything I love is here.”
Jordan and Breon laughed.
“You never want to go?” Mat asked. “It’s an adventure.”
“I don’t like adventure. I would get lost,” Irrik insisted.
“Crazy,” Mat, Jordan and Breon chimed together.
Irrik rolled his eyes. “It’s not that I would never go, but I would only go if I could see the Princess.”
Breon let out a low whistle. “Gods, she’s beautiful. What I wouldn’t give to see her.”
Jordan sighed dreamily. “The Princess of Caendor, the woman who has captured my heart. I will marry no woman but her!” Jordan proclaimed.
Mat laughed. “You’re going to live a lonely life, my friend.”
Jordan smiled. “If only dreams could come true.”
“Do you think you will get to see her, Mat?” Irrik asked. “I would be so envious if you did.”
“If I ever see her, it would be when the sky becomes a thousand colors,” Mat said dryly. “And when the stars fall.”
Jordan patted Mat on the back. “It could happen.”
They settled into a compatible silence, each thinking about the dreams they had had of the Princess and her famous beauty.
Breon shattered the silence with words of war. “I heard my parents talking the other night about war. They said the time is coming.”
“What time?” Irrik asked.
“They said Evil is rising in the south and creatures are once again springing from the abyss. They come to this land to wreak havoc until their master is discovered and calls them to him. When that day dawns, the Dragons will be found and the Warlord will wage his war.”
Jordan snorted. “You listen to too much gossip, Breon. Your mother is known to be a gossiper. She probably made it up.”
Breon shrugged. “It doesn’t matter if she made it up. I’ve decided to enlist in the army.”
“Why?” Mat asked.
“My brothers want the farm. I don’t. I’ve decided it’s time for me to move on, live somewhere else. I’ve been thinking about joining the army in Istra.”
“Why Istra?” Irrik asked. “They are a weak country.”
“I believe my mother’s words. Caendor is going to fall, and I will not be here when it happens.”
Mat shivered at Breon’s words. “Don’t speak of such things.”
Jordan frowned at Breon. “I think he’s right, Mat. Caendor has been powerful too long, and with the talk of war, I fear the end is coming.” He paused. “I’m coming with you.”
“I won’t,” Irrik declared. “Not unless something actually happens.”
“What of you, Mat? Will you come with us on our adventure?”
Mat shook his head. “I can’t. You all have siblings to care for the farm. My parents only have me. I would be deserting them if I left.”
Jordan nodded, glancing at the dark sky. “We should be going. I know I have to get up early tomorrow, but we will see you when you get back from the city, Mat, then you will tell us all about it.” Jordan shook his head and said, “I wish I was going to the City of Jewels.”
Jordan, Breon and Irrik left, disappearing into the dark, the only thing betraying them was their laughter. Mat smiled after them but drawn by the promise of food, Mat stood up and went inside, joining his parents for a delicious dinner followed closely by bed.
Mat sat up in bed, yawning. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and slipped a shirt over his head. He stared out his window for a few seconds until remembering what day it was. With a whoop, he jumped out of bed, tugging on a pair of pants. Running out of the room and down the creaky hallway, he nearly collided with his mother.
“Oops. Sorry, Mother.” He planted a kiss on her cheek and quickly brushed past her. He reached the kitchen where he sat down and started eating the breakfast his mother had laid out. He bit into an apple, savoring the burst of flavor blossoming in his mouth. With a ravenous appetite, he dug into the rest of the food on his plate.
His mother came back down the hall carrying a basket of his dirty laundry. Mat saw the basket she was carrying and quickly got up to take it from her. His mother pulled away from him. “I’ll do your chores today, dear. There’s no need for you to waste your time. You only have two days in the city. You should spend all the time you can there. Jariran is such a beautiful city.”
Mat hugged his mother. “Thanks.” He sat back down and continued eating.
His mother went outside for a moment and dumped the clothes in a large bucket of water. It was best to let clothes soak for a while to get out all the dirt.
Walking back into the kitchen, she smiled at her son. “Now, don’t forget to buy some wool for me. You know I need some to make more shirts for you and your father.”
Mat smiled around a mouthful of bread. “I won’t.”
His mother ruffled his hair. “I know, dear.”
Mat looked up at his mother. “Is Father going to be alright? I heard him coughing again last night. It sounded awful.”
His mother looked pained for a moment but she quickly masked it. “Yes, dear. He’ll be fine. He’s a strong man.”
“If we had any extra money I would buy him a tonic from the priests.”
His mother chuckled. “I know, dear. But you’re father’s a tough man. He doesn’t need a potion to make him better.”
“I know. But father’s getting old and he’s not the healthiest he can be.” Mat glanced at his mother. He didn’t mention that she was getting old too.
His mother sat down at the table. “Mat, don’t worry about your father or I. We know how to take care of ourselves. Just because we’re not as young or lively as you are doesn’t mean we need help.”
Mat nodded and took another apple from the bowl in the middle of the table. He looked at it for a moment, tossing it between his hands, before slowly eating it. He cursed to himself silently. He wished that their farm wasn’t failing and they had enough money to buy necessities, like proper clothes and something to help his father. Maybe even enough to fix up their old, crumbling house. If I could only make some money, he thought.
His mother patted him on the back. “Mat, dear, you’d better get moving. Like I said, you don’t want to waste a minute.” His mother bent down and kissed him on the cheek.
Mat heard his father coughing and his mother left, hurrying to her husband’s side. With a bound he got up and quickly cleaned his dishes, handing some tidbits to the small dog that lay in the corner of the kitchen by the fire.
“I’ll be back in a couple of days,” Mat yelled down the hall to his mother. He hopped out of the house, closing the door behind him. He stuck his hand down one of his pockets to make sure he had money and, feeling the cool coins, started off. He finished the apple, tossed it into a bush and unintentionally wiped his hands on his pants.
Mat walked down the dirt road, his feet kicking up dust. The sun rose in the sky, yellow and shining.
Hearing the sounds of a wagon Mat looked over his shoulder. A wagon was moving down the road, rather quickly too, and in the direction of Jariran. The wagon, pulled by a strong horse, approached and Mat waved to the driver who smiled in return. Taking a few quick steps he jumped into the back of the wagon as it passed him, knowing he would get to Jariran in several hours rather than at dusk.
Mat hung his feet over the edge of the wagon and laid his head on the one of the barrels the wagon driver was carting.
His mind at first drifted to the words of his father from yesterday but he pushed them aside and focused on legends of the past. The legends told of the ancient battles fought between Good and Evil, when powerful kings and queens had ruled the land and fought for freedom. As a child, even still as a young man, he daydreamed of adventure where heroes walked the land and grand armies fought. He wished he lived in those times when legends formed. He could have been a solider instead of a farmer. He could have fought in battles and traveled to lands far from here. He could have been a name in history.
Mat sighed. The chances of him ever going farther than Jariran were as slim as him meeting the Princess of the Tower of the Light, the Daughter of the Nation Caendor.
Mat shifted, his bones jarring from the bumpy dirt road. He closed his eyes and let the sleep come.
A beautiful woman drifted into his dreams. A woman with flowing brown hair and gray eyes, whose red lips sparkled and body glimmered. The woman smiled at him, an aura of light surrounded her being.
A man just as beautiful appeared next to her, but he was dark and evil radiated from him. He frowned at Mat and reached out his hand, touching Mat on the cheek. The cold fingers slid down his face and a warm liquid followed in their place.
Mat jolted awake. He reached his hand up to his cheek, searching for the blood, but his cheek was unmarred. Realizing that the wagon had slowed, he looked around. It was noon and wagons were everywhere.
Mat’s eyes wide in wonder, stared at the large black walls of Jariran. He tilted his head back to look up at the gate as the wagon was pulled into Jariran, a line of merchant wagons in front slowing down the process. Guards stood next to the grand gate, watching for the suspicious traveler. Once the wagon entered the walled city, Mat jumped off and gasped. He had heard stories about Jariran being the most beautiful city in the world. He never had believed them till now.
Trees and potted plants were everywhere and filled the air with the scent as sweet as spring and filled with the promise of a wonderful summer. Tall white buildings towered above the streets, clothes hanging from the windows and flowerpots perched on the windowsills. Temples to the Light and their tall towers rose above all buildings and laid a comforting coat of care and love over the city. The Library of Jariran could be seen from where Mat was standing, it’s golden roof magnificent in the sunlight. The Tower of the Light and the Four Towers surpassed all in height and splendor. The Four Towers, ending in golden teardrop tops looked like sentinels over the city, watching their citizens. The Tower of the Light, it’s teardrop shaped, stained glass top spoke of Caendor’s power, majesty and good deeds all in one simple glance. It was the tower that ruled the nation.
Finally dragging his eyes away from the Tower of the Light, Mat made his way through the street. He passed shops and tried to get a look inside but too many people were trying to get in and out. Women with dresses displaying too much and flirting with handsome men gave him second looks, some even going as far as to wink at him.
He shook his head as the seventh woman winked at him. He wasn’t that good looking was he? As he walked by a store with glass windows he caught a picture of himself. A tall and lean nineteen-year-old young man looked back at him. Semi short, curly, dark brown hair needed a brush. Hazel eyes appearing soft and hard at the same time were positioned below black eyebrows. Normal lips and a perfect nose completed his image. Maybe he was a little on the handsome side. But not too much. Not like those lords who looked in their mirrors all day preening themselves like birds.
Turning, a man in ragged clothes with a filthy beard ran into him. Mat and the man crashed to the ground. The man, not bothering to apologize, struggled up and ran, leaving behind a purse.
Getting up, Mat spotted the purse and bent to pick it up. Peeking inside he gasped. In the purse were four golden rings, a pearl necklace and a silver bracelet. Looking around he caught sight of the man and was about to run after him when he was pushed over into a puddle of muddy water. Shaking his head, he tried to get up when he was thrown back down on the cobblestone street. He looked up. A man in black clothes with a silver lion on the front leaned over him. A sword was pointed at Mat’s throat. The man’s blue eyes shone murderously and a sneer twisted his mouth. The man, who Mat assumed was an officer, reached down and hauled him up, ripping the purse from his hands.
“Well, little thief, to the palace with you, where the King will decide your fate. He’ll be pleased to meet the man that has been raiding the jewelry stores of late.” The officer snickered. “I hope he beheads you.”
“What?” Mat yelled, outraged.
“Don’t lie, boy. You stole the purse. Worth three thousand gold chips. You’ll go to the King for your trial.”
“I didn’t do it.” Mat tried to control his temper but it was leaking over the edges.
The officer grabbed Mat roughly by the collar. “I said don’t lie!”
“Let me go! You have no right to accuse me of stealing!” Mat struggled wildly in the officer’s grasp.
The officer smacked Mat in the face. “Quiet! Under the rule of the King I have the right to throw you in prison without a trail! Be careful or I might do just that.”
Mat glared. “Do it.”
The officer looked astonished. Obviously no one had demanded to be thrown in prison.
“Throw me in prison. It’s where I belong, right?”
A cruel grin slowly spread across the officer’s features. “Yes. Thieves like you deserve the scenery of the prison walls. I will throw you in prison.”
Mat looked around and saw an audience had gathered. He lowered his voice when he spoke next. “But you can’t do that can you?”
The officer’s eyes darted around, seeing several dozen men and women watching him. The officer snarled. For him to stay in the good will of the public eye he had no choice but to give Mat his trail.
The officer motioned to two of his patrol, ordering chains.
As Mat’s hands were forced into the cold metal chains, Mat strained to hear the words the officer was speaking to one of his men.
“—kill him if he gets free. I know he stole—”
“—yes, sir.”
“—not right to be walking the streets—”
“—vermin—”
One of the patrolmen shoved Mat. “Get moving. We don’t have all day.”
Mat didn’t try to argue anymore. He knew it was useless. Hands chained, he let his thoughts wander as he began walking. What will happen to me? What about my parents?
He held his head up high as he was led through the streets like a criminal. People stepped aside as his guards marched down the avenue. Some people gave him disgusted looks, others pity. A few even went so far as to ask whether he was getting a trial.
Mat shivered. Why does this have to happen to me? I only wanted to see the city, not the dampness of a prison wall or the King himself. I prefer not to meet the King, especially have a trial ruled by him. Even if I am not found guilty, rumor will spread and people will start wondering if I am a criminal. My parents will be disgraced and will probably double my workload. I wish they would just throw me in the dungeon.
Mat looked up as the cobblestones beneath his feet changed to white stone. His captors were leading him through a garden, a very beautiful garden filled with fountains and exotic plants. His gaze traveled up to the shimmering stones of the palace. The Tower of the Light stood above all, luminous and dazzling in the afternoon sun. The stained crystal windows that made up its top cast rainbows of color into the sky. It was the pride of the people of Caendor. Mat stared up at the tower, his head craned back. For a spilt second of time, he thought he saw a beautiful face reflected in the glass of the tower’s top. A very beautiful face indeed, a face that was as ageless as time itself. He had seen that face before. It had been the face in his dreams. To him it seemed like the face of a goddess. The face disappeared as quickly as Mat could blink yet it left him with a feeling of security, as if his mother was watching over him. It was in that moment he knew the goddess Tghil was with him.
His guards took him through the bronze doors of the palace and into a long hallway filled with marble pillars. They walked the length of the hall and up a flight of stairs, and several more flights of stairs. As they topped the fifth flight, Mat’s guards were out of breath. His guards took a minute of rest before they grabbed Mat roughly by his upper arms and dragged him up four more sets of stairs. By the time they reached the top of the ninth set, Mat’s guards were wheezing. They stayed at the top of these stairs until their breath was conquered. They proceeded down a hallway lined with portraits of past kings and came to a set of golden doors. There upon, the golden doors were opened and Mat entered the room to the Tower of the Light. Copyright 2006 |