Maveith woke two hours after the suns had risen. He clomped to the wall, pulled back the curtains, and stepped onto the balcony overlooking the river below and the mountains in the background. Maveith yawned at the suns moving in the sky. The first was large and white, outlined in butter yellow. The second star—small and red—hung nearby.
He walked outside his room and stubbed his toe on a backpack. Everything he owned was in a neat, folded pile on the floor outside his room. A note lay on top of his neatly stacked clothes. His weapons were on the floor. A small table stood next to his gear. A large pottery bowl with a pitcher inside sat on top. A hand towel and small cloth lay draped over the edge of the bowl. He grabbed the clothes and placed them in the armoire then tossed his pack at the foot of his sleeping rug, laying his note on top. Maveith brought the table and basin inside. The pitcher was full of water. He poured it in the bowl and rinsed his face. He stuck a finger under his left arm pit and sniffed it.
“I stink like onions,” he quipped. Maveith took the cloth, dipped it in honeysuckle-scented water and washed his hands, feet and armpits. He went to the balcony and tossed the water from the basin watching it fall hundreds of feet onto the river basin below. Then he made his way down the gently sloped ramp spiraling around the inside of Panae Hall to the landing of the main level and the Great Hall.
Maveith hesitated outside the huge, open doors, peering into the hall. Inside Pim and Mr. Andvari were working: packing food, as well as piling weapons, shields, and leather armor in the middle of the floor. Rarr climbed around on his wooden tree, howling and chirping.
“Morning, Maveith,” said Pim without looking up. “Food is in the dining hall.”
“Eat, clean up after yourself, and then make sure your pack is ready for a three-day trip,” said Mr. Andvari. He put down the jerky he was prepping and walked to Maveith. “Do you know how to pack for a trip like that?” Maveith nodded. “Are you sure?” Maveith nodded again. “Okay. Rations. Water. You need rope, a candle, blanket, and flint and steel. When you get that packed, come and see me. We will make sure you have the right weapons and armor.”
Maveith nodded again, turned, and went to the dining hall where the other kids had already finished eating and were cleaning up.
“Oh, look,” said Adrastos. “Our precious princess decided to rise for the day.” She turned toward Maveith and bowed. “Better get ready, Buttercup. Mr. Andvari waits for no one.” She left the room shoving her shoulder into Maveith as she passed by him, giggling the whole time.
“Ignore her.” Penelopas’s copper eyes glowed under her hood. She placed her dishes away and picked up a plate. A single hunk of bread and hard cheese sat on the plate. “I saved this for you. Next time, you need to get to breakfast on time. Otherwise, these animals will eat your share and I won’t stop them.” She glided past him, her clothes swirling around her, gently brushing his bare skin as she left the room. “Don’t forget to clean up after yourself. Otherwise, you’ll do everyone’s dishes for a week. I learned that the hard way.”
Maveith scarfed the bread and downed a glass of tea, but wrapped the cheese in a cloth. He cleaned his plate and cup and put them away then went to his room and packed his backpack. Thirty minutes later, he went back to the great hall with his pack. The rest of the wards were bustling around the room, gathering last minute rations and choosing weapons.
On the floor in front of the large table lay all kinds of weapons: spears, quarter staffs, staffs, tetsubos, warhammers, throwing hammers, tridents, net, and a whip chain. Another pile of worn shields, rusted and broken helms, and assorted cloth and leather armor laid nearby. Mr. Andvari worked in the corner. He was dressed in a brown-mottled kilt with his mistletoe belt and blade. His normal cream shirt was replaced with a long-sleeved, dark brown shirt beneath sleeveless leather armor. On his forearms he wore black and brown leather bracers. A large backpack with bedroll sat beside him. Leaning against the cabinet was a spear, shield, naginata, and two unusually thin swords. They were unlike the doubled-edged long swords most warriors carried in Iasos. Both swords were single-edged and curved with blood grooves running most of the length of the blade. Each grip was wrapped in kraken skin then covered with braided black cord that created diamond shapes allowing the kraken skin to show through. Both had a simple, round guard with a garğ face carved into them. The first one was a katana of typical sword length worn tucked into Mr. Andvari’s belt on his left side. The other, a nagamaki, was made the same, but the blade was a hand-and-a-half length longer than the katana’s and the grip was twice the size. In the middle of the nagamaki grip, about one third the length of the entire handle, the covering changed to a tightly wrapped purple cord. The nagamaki stood taller than Mr. Andvari making it much too long to carry on the back of any dwarf.
Maveith picked up a tetsubo, a wooden bat-like weapon. It was similar to a studded war club, but more elegant in design. It was not round like a bat, but octagonal with each of the sides lined with round metal studs. He gripped the leather-wrapped handle in his right hand, running his left along the length. Maveith tightened both hands along the handle and took a swing, examining its worth. Mr. Andvari watched Maveith swing the tetsubo. Their eyes met and Maveith dropped the tetsubo to the ground. Mr. Andvari smiled, pulled a small wooden carving of a garğ—a macabre beast similar to a bear in shape but much larger and more deadly—out of his pocket. Its head was thick and wide with large tusks protruding out from its jowls and it had a mane of short and prickly, needle-like spines encircled its head. It was long told the mythical beast’s mane would come alive when enemies were near, screaming for blood. Along the garğ’s spine laid a line of misshapen bone spurs about a hand’s length long. On each shoulder and hip of the beast was a roundish plate of exposed bone from which there were three bone spurs protruding.
Mr. Andvari walked to the balcony and put the butt end of the garğ to his lips and blew. A gurgling whistle came from the carving. Adrastos walked to the pile of weapons, picked up the tetsubo Maveith dropped and began a kata—a warrior’s dance used to practice and implement the skills and techniques used in self defense—she learned from Mr. Andvari.
“Can we please have bladed weapons this time, Mr. Andvari?” asked Adrastos. Her four goat feet danced as she cut the air with the tetsubo: twirling, smashing, parrying. She moved effortlessly, better than any of the wards Maveith had ever seen at the abbey.
“No.” said Andvari without looking up.
“Seriously? I am so ready. At least a blunt blade?”
“You get what’s on the floor or …” he looked down at the spoon he was holding. “… you can have this spoon?” Mr. Andvari turned and showed her the soup spoon about to go into his pack. You could eat your enemy to death,” he laughed as he mocked her with a ridiculous, made-up kata, flicking and flailing his spoon in the air.
“Fine,” she snapped. Adrastos snagged a blunt trident and strapped it to her right side then folded a net and buttoned it to her left side with a leather thong. She strapped a shield to her human back. On her goat body, she carried a special backpack that rode on her like a humped saddle.
“Why don’t you carry the backpack on your back and let someone ride you,” asked Maveith. The room silenced. Mr. Andvari froze midkata, dropped his spoon, and darted across the room, but he was too late. Adrastos shot across the floor, her trident handle nestled under her armpit, spear-points ready to deal damage. She planted the flat-side of her trident across Maveith’s neck, driving his head back. She then reversed the trident and slammed the handle into his rib cage knocking him to the floor.
“I am a sentient creature, not a slave animal to some troglodyte wanting a ride. My people are shackled in the bonds of slavery and forced labor no more.” She stood over him, a trident tip up his left nostril.
“Adrastos,” Mr. Andvari said calmly as he slipped beside her, running his hand down her trident arm. “I bet Maveith’s never met an orea before.” He looked down at Maveith, who was shaking his head. “See. He just doesn’t know, yet, about your people and what they’ve endured. We will teach him. I promise.” Mr. Andvari wrapped his strong hand around hers and gently guided her trident away from Maveith. Adrastos moved past Maveith, giving him a kick with her back hoof.
“Adrastos!” chastised Mr. Andvari who put his hand out to help Maveith up, but the boy brushed it aside. Maveith wrapped his legs under him like a dancer and stood up quickly without putting his hands down on the ground.
“Come on. Let’s get you a weapon.”
“I don’t want one,” snapped Maveith.
“Oh. Okay.” Mr. Andvari nodded his head slowly. “Will you carry one for me, just in case I need it?”
“I don’t want one at all.” Maveith folded his arms.
“No problem.” Mr. Andvari, looked Maveith up and down, then chose a spear and shield from the pile. “Pimg …!” Pim stood behind Mr. Andvari with the teacher’s backpack on the floor and weapons in hand.
“I’ll have everyone upstairs in fifteen minutes, Mr. Andvari,” said Pim.
“Thank you, Pimgin.” Mr. Andvari grabbed his pack and weapons and headed out the door.
They met on the top of Panae Hall in front of Tholos, the old temple. Pim wore a linothorax—a breastplate made from layers of glued linen—over his clothes. He replaced his wrist bracelets with old bronze bracers covering his forearms, and strapped bronze greaves on his shins. He chose a helmet slightly bigger than his head with a sharp top, cheek plates and an open face.
Adrastos exchanged her knit shirt for a light linen shirt under a long linothorax that Mr. Andvari modified to cover more of her goat body. Her orea cuffs remained on her wrists, but she did wear armor on her legs but no helmet.
The same black cloak covered Penelopas indoors and out. Her copper eyes were all that shone beneath her hood. While Pim was armed with a spear and shield and Adrastos carried a trident and shield, Penelopas had only a walking stick and chose her cloak and hood over a helm. Rarr wore nothing but a loin cloth. He carried a war hammer almost as long as Mr. Andvari’s nagamaki. The handle of Rarr’s weapon was three feet long attached to a hammer the size of a small wine cask. It stood taller than the boy, yet Rarr had it resting comfortably on his shoulders.
“Seriously, Rarr!” mocked Adrastos. That thing looks ridiculous. It’s bigger than you!” The hammer part was almost larger than Rarr’s torso.
“Rarr? Come here a minute, buddy.” Mr. Andvari knelt down so he was eye level to Rarr. “That’s a pretty big weapon. How do you feel about choosing something smaller? Maybe a tetsubo?”
“Rarr.” The boy snapped his teeth, spun behind Mr. Andvari, and climbed up his back. Rarr put his snout next to the dwarf’s ear and grunted. He blew from his nostrils and air also filled his closed mouth, puffing out his cheeks.
“No? Oooh. How about two throwing hammers?” Mr. Andvari raised his eyebrows. “You could do double damage and even throw them?”
“Rarr-arr!”
“We’re going to walk for a day or so there and a day or so back. You have to carry it the whole time. Are you sure you want to do that?” Rarr dropped the head of the gigantic war hammer to the ground and planted his foot on it. “Suit yourself.”
Maveith leaned over to Penelopas. “He’s a young kid. He can’t carry that thing. I couldn’t carry it all day.” Penelopas just peered at him with her copper eyes.
“You don’t know, Rarr,” chimed Pim. Maveith jumped at the sound of Pim’s voice.
“Whatever,” laughed Maveith.
“Rarr is crazy strong,” Pim stated. “He’s fast, too. Just wait. You’ll see.”
In the distance, the abbey sat perched, structures cascading up and down the mountainside. On the main campus a group of recruits stood in sharp rows and columns, practicing slow, methodical, dance-like movements. A presbyter walked among them correcting their form and stance. Another group sat in the small outdoor laboratory just beneath the main campus sketching plants and labeling their parts and uses. Higher on the mountain side a platoon of older recruits were practicing warfare in rocky, sloped terrain. They had ropes tied to their waists connecting them to one another in case of an accidental fall.
Screams came from the recruits on the main campus. They pointed, yelled and ran for cover. In the distance a large black figure moved down out of the mountain forest and lumbered across the grounds toward the land bridge connecting the abbey with Panae Hall. The beast reached the land bridge and growled. Rarr dropped his hammer and dashed toward it.
“Rarr! Stop!” Mr. Andvari reached for him, but Rarr darted around him easily and made for the bear. Most of the bears in D’wyee were three hundred pounds and the height of a pony. This bear, however, was brown with wisps of grey around his face. On all fours, it was taller than most horses and weighed nearly nine hundred pounds. In the background, recruits ran for doors and windows, screeching. Rarr sprinted toward the bear with his arms extended, his face stretched into a smile.
“Rarr-arr! Arr!” he squealed with glee.
“Stay here!” Mr. Andvari barked at the other wards as he headed toward the bear, too. As Rarr reached it, the bear twisted his head and caught Rarr in the ribs with his snout. The bear threw his head and tossed Rarr over his back. The boy flew through the air, hit the ground, slid and rolled toward the edge of the land bridge. He caught himself in time, his legs dangling over the edge. Rarr cackled. Mr. Andvari met the bear nose-to-nose. They sniffed one another then Mr. Andvari gently caressed the bear’s jowls and stared into the bear’s eyes. “Adrastos! I’ve got Geros. Go get Rarr, please.” He broke eye contact and nuzzled the beast’s face. “Hello, old friend. I’ve missed you.”
Adrastos trotted to Rarr, but by the time she got there, he picked himself up and was headed toward Geros. Rarr ran up to the bear’s hind quarter and threw himself into its fur, squeezing and petting. Mr. Andvari moved away from Geros’ face and let the other wards approach with their hands out so the bear could smell them. Mr. Andvari slid to Rarr and waited for him to release.
“Rarr. You cannot run up to a wild animal like that. He could have hurt you.”
“No hurt.” Rarr kept his face buried in Geros’ fur.
“Rarr?” Mr. Andvari gently pulled on the boy’s shoulder. Rarr turned his head so that one eye could see Mr. Andvari. The other was still stuffed in fur. Mr. Andvari shook his head. “Rarr, wild animals do not like to be approached like that. It can be scary. When they are scared, they attack.”
“No scare,” Rarr frowned turning his head back into Geros’ side.
“Rarr, look at me.” Mr. Andvari guided Rarr’s face toward his, looking the him in the eyes. The boy relented and released his left hand, his right still clinging to the old bear. “Geros doesn’t like that. That’s why he threw you over him. You almost fell off the bridge.” Mr. Andvari stared into the boy’s eyes watching them dart between him and Geros. “When you greet him, you stand still and let him smell you. Then you can hug. Understand?” Rarr frowned and grunted. “Please?”
“No run,” said Rarr, stamping his feet.
“Thank you, Rarr,” Mr. Andvari said shaking his head with a sharp frown. “Now go up and hug his neck.” Mr. Andvari turned away and sighed deeply. His frown turned into a small smirk.
Pim left the group and strapped the gear not carried by the wards to Geros. There was a lean-to, candle lantern, cast iron pot and pan, musical instruments, a few spears, some empty bags, a chest, and Mr. Andvari’s nagamaki and naginata.
“We better get going if we want to make our destination before dark.” Mr. Andvari slipped on his backpack, slid his katana into his belt, and walked beside Geros inspecting Pim’s packing job. He stopped at the nagamaki strapped to the old bear’s left side, running his hand along the scabbard. He tested the straps and his ability to draw the katana-shaped glaive elegantly. “Come on,” he commanded.
They moved across the land bridge to the main campus. A few recruits were still running from Geros’ appearance. A half dozen white-and-gold-clad soldiers armed with shields and war hammers ran out of the abbey’s main entrance about one hundred yards away, headed toward Panae Hall. Mr. Andvari turned east walking parallel against the mountainside, the bevy of wards behind him. A few straggling recruits and teachers, unable to make it indoors, clung to the side of the road against the mountainside.
“High Abbess Gudrun will hear about this, Mr. Andvari!” a half-elf teacher in a pink and scarlet tunic tied with a white corded belt exclaimed. Her hands were spread out against the chests of her ten-year-old recruits. “That beast is not supposed to be on Abbey grounds; it’s against policy. It’s a safety issue!”
He ignored her cries and continued along the road. Geros followed behind and to his right. Pim walked to Geros’ left, near the bear’s shoulder and behind Mr. Andvari, close enough that he could quietly speak to his mentor without the others hearing. In the same position but to the old bear’s right was Adrastos. On each of Geros’ hind quarters walked Penelopas on the left and Maveith on the right. Rarr walked where he pleased, jumping from left to right, twirling front to back, and sometimes above and even on Geros. The boy grunted and growled and laughed mostly with himself, always carrying his oversized war hammer Adrastos nicknamed “skull stomper.”
The road was quarried stone near the the abbey then turned to gravel hammered by failed recruits turned into slaves. As they moved to the easternmost tip of the plateau, the road narrowed and became dirt. The road scrawled back and forth along the side of the mountain moving downward toward the river basin and the town of D’wyee below. The city was built along the base of the mountainside, but it branched out wider toward the edge of Lake Yammu. At the base, the road turned south down a final slope off the mountain and spilled out onto the border of town near the eastern gate. Circumscribing the city was once a beautiful, smooth-hewn white stone wall, forty feet high with evenly spaced Doric columns. All through the city the remnants of the old world cobbled together with the new was evident—history long forgotten still peering out from the wood and thatch and inferior stone. But it stood.
Once in the city, Mr. Andvari made for the eastern gate quickly. They moved between the edge of the city and the gate, keeping the wall at their left and avoiding as many people as possible. Merchants and artisans scuttled away as Mr. Andvari lead his bevy through the street. Above, a couple of guards hailed him and waved. He smiled and waved back. They reached the gates and Mr. Andvari stopped.
“Wait here.” He looked at Rarr who was happily riding Geros. “Rarr. Stay on Geros, okay, buddy?” The boy gave out a deep hoot, leaned back, and laughed. Mr. Andvari approached the sentry closest to him and spoke quietly. They grasped forearms, then Mr. Andvari moved back to the bevy next to Adrastos. He whispered to her and motioned toward a man with a whip standing next to two aurochs harnessed to a long chain. Adrastos pulled her trident over her shoulder in a throwing stance but Mr. Andvari grabbed it and gently guided it down. He touched her on the shoulder. Adrastos shook her head and stomped her right hoof. He continued to negotiate until she finally nodded.
Mr. Andvari turned toward the gate and the sentry, smiled and winked. The sentry motioned to a man standing near a column that flanked the gate. The man took out his whip and cracked it in the air. The aurochs trudged forward, opening the gate.
“Ade sto diaolo,” Adrastos murmured as she sneered at the man with the whip, tightening her grip on her trident. Once outside, Mr. Andvari pointed to a second mountain range lying on the eastern side of the lake.
“We’re going somewhere new,” he said.
“Where?” asked Adrastos.
“Let’s talk about walking order.” Mr. Andvari reached out and petted a grey patch on the old bear’s neck. He stood and looked at the kids. “Maveith, have you ever traveled as a platoon?” Maveith shrugged his shoulders. “It’s important we walk in zones and never too close to each other for very long. Mr. Andvari squatted down and drew a circle in the dirt. “This is Geros,” he said. “Think of this as a sundial. His head is twelve o’clock; his butt is six o’clock.” A snicker broke out. “Seriously?” he said. “It’s just a butt. Anyway, I lead us.” He drew a smaller circle at the eleven o’clock position but in the lead. “Pim, you walk about six or seven feet behind me at about nine thirty or ten o’clock.” He drew a circle near Gero’s left shoulder. “Penelopas, I want you to walk behind Pim at Geros’ left hip, say eight o’clock. Now Maveith, I want you to walk at five o’clock but I don’t want you near Geros’ right hip like Penelopas. I want you about eight feet behind Geros.” He drew Penelopas and Maveith’s zones in the dirt. “Adrastos, I want you at one o’clock.” He scanned the group looking them in the eyes. They nodded in agreement. “Who can tell me why?”
“Pim sticks close to you because…” Adrastos looked at Pim and grimaced. “Sorry Pim.” She looked back at Mr. Andvari. “But he can’t fight well and you want to keep him safe.” Pim’s face reddened.
“I can fight. I’m not a baby!” shouted Pimgin.
“I didn’t say you were. It’s just that you are not that good at fighting,” Adrastos retorted.
“Defense,” reminded Mr. Andvari. “I don’t teach you to fight; I teach you self control and self-defense.”
“And you aren’t good at it, either. I’m sorry, but it’s true,” cracked Adrastos.
“But that’s not the only reason. Pim is observant where you are not, Adrastos. That comes in handy.” Mr. Andvari looked at Pim. “You don’t have to be a fighter to be important.” Pim smiled slightly.
“I’m in the front so I can back you up in a fight, err, I mean if we have to defend ourselves,” said Adrastos.
“And…” said Mr. Andvari smiling.
“Maveith is in the rear so he can watch both sides of Geros. He can run up and help me. He can defend our right flank, defend our rear, or even slide over and help Penelopas and Pim on the left.”
“Correct.”
“What if I don’t fight?” asked Maveith.
“We don’t fight; we defend and protect. There’s a difference.” Mr. Andvari raised his eyebrows. “I don’t teach fighters and bullies.” He glared at Adrastos. “Right, Adrastos?” She rolled her eyes.
“I’m working on it,” said Adrastos.
“You need to work harder,” Pim chortled.
“Shut up, you.” Adrastos popped him in the shoulder.
“Get in your zone and pay attention,” said Mr. Andvari.
The platoon traveled the eastern road following the Sappan Mountains. Outside the city, the land from the mountain to Yammu Lake was flat and peppered with farms for several miles until it butted into a forest. The once broad, smooth road turned narrow and rutted in the forest. Where passersby had room to easily move side by side on the smooth road near the city, groups who met on the forest road had to maneuver carefully to get by one another. To the left of the forest road, the Sappan Mountains stood strong and steep, covered in trees and shrubs most of the way. On the right, the forest was dense but flat with a rich and sometimes swampy undergrowth. The road smelled of damp musk and rotting things, especially in the summer. Older trees hung over the path creating pockets of shade and cool comfort. Mr. Andvari kept a hefty pace, keeping his focus on his surroundings. His short dwarf legs powered down the road making even the spry kids work to keep up. He said little on the road.
Maveith walked the rear of the group, observing his new classmates. Pim skip-walked a lot and bobbed his head. He was two years from the Declaration where each recruit—having been observed and evaluated by the presbyters—had to declare his intended track and move into his skill-specific program of study. Pim was not a warrior, that was obvious. He seemed atrocious at empty-hand and weaponed combat, but was uncannily adept at predicting the needs and wants of others.
He knows what I’m thinking before I think it, Maveith thought. I don’t know if I like that. Adrastos, on the other hand, was a very skilled warrior. I bet she can wield that trident—probably any weapon—as well or better than any of the kids at the abbey. I better watch her.
Rarr was a half-naked berserker more akin to an animal than a person. Civilized he was not, but the boy was strong. Maveith had only seen adults wield a war hammer of that size and they had been fully grown behemoths. I don’t even think Mr. Andvari could wield that big of a war hammer easily, he thought. I know I can’t and I am a behemoth. Yet Rarr, a child, carried it around like a toy. That’s weird. He’s too strong and fast for a kid. What is he?
Mr. Andvari and Penelopas were the hardest to figure out. Mr. Andvari seemed kind; it was unnerving. No adult, including his own parents, ever treated him as softly as Mr. Andvari. Every presbyter at the abbey had kicked Maveith out for apathy. He refused to work, read, study, talk, or help. There were times he refused to move or acknowledge teachers even existed. He did nothing for Mr. Andvari and the man didn’t seem to care. I don’t get it. Is he tricking me? He’s pretending. He’ll hit me, or hate me, or throw me out. Something’s coming. I know it.
Penelopas hid underneath her hooded cloak. Maveith wasn’t even sure there was a physical body beneath those robes. All he ever saw were her copper eyes behind her dark shroud. She rarely spoke, kept to herself, and covered her entire body with cloth. Even her hands were gloved. What is she hiding? he wondered. She and Maveith were the only ones who didn’t carry weapons. Penelopas, instead, carried a flute the size of a small staff or walking stick. She played it as they walked. Strapped to her backpack was a small stringed instrument with a narrow neck and slender, triangular body. Other instruments were packed on Geros, too. I wonder why she doesn’t carry a weapon? Something happen to her like it did me? Maveith noticed a spear and shield strapped to the right hind quarter of Geros. Mr. Andvari had Pim put that there for me, just in case, he thought. “I don’t want it,” he accidentally muttered out loud.
Curious, Maveith slipped over to the left edge of his zone toward Penelopas. She glanced at him from under her hood.
“What are you doing?” she snapped. “Get back in your zone.”
“I’m in my zone.” He looked down and studied the ground.
“No you’re not. Do you want to get us all killed?” Maveith took a step toward his zone.
“There. I’m at the edge of my zone,” he said. Penelopas sighed but kept her eyes forward. “Can I ask you a question?”
“No.”
“Why did Adrastos get so mad at the soldier with the whip at the gate?” He kept his eyes forward, pretending to watch the road, periodically glancing at the forest and feigning to look for marauders.
“I said you could not ask me a question.”
‘I know, but…”
“Then why are you still talking to me?”
Maveith took another step into his zone and peered into the forest ahead, keeping her in his peripheral vision. Then he turned left—toward Penelopas—and looked for more bandits. “I guess I hurt Adrastos’ feelings.”
“You didn’t hurt her feelings. You insulted her.” Her soft voice was hard for him to hear, but her tone was clear. “Go back, do your job and quit talking. You are so loud, mouth breather. Every troll in two leagues is going to come for us.” Penelopas took a step to the front of her zone, closer to Pim, making it hard for Maveith to see her. He stopped and felt his mouth to see if it was open.
“I don’t breathe through my mouth.” he snapped. Do I? I don’t think so. Why did she say that? I was just asking a question.
Mr. Andvari held up his right hand, fingers extended, stopping the bevy. The road forked, each division split and curved in an egg shape and came back together thirty feet ahead. In the middle stood an ancient, gnarled tree. Its trunk and limbs contorted—arthritic—causing it to grow thick and wide but not tall. The trunk was dark as brewed chicory root; its bark swirled and spun in intricate designs. The leaves were myrtle green—stiff and waxy—and oozed a milky green when crushed between the fingers. Large, white blossoms covered its branches; the aroma of the blossoms wafted in all directions, smelling of leather, tobacco and rot.
No one moved or spoke. A tiny breeze blew through the road, tossing leaves around. A few squirrels chattered in the forest above. Mr. Andvari moved to the left side of the road closest to the mountainside and took off his pack, laying it on the ground. He squatted down and opened a small pouch on the side of his backpack and revealed a bird’s nest of leather and cord. He turned to the teens. Pim was already turned toward Geros, untying the knots strapping the gear to his harness. Penelopas, Adrastos and Maveith stood in their zones, watching. Rarr was standing on his war hammer like a ditch digger on a shovel in front of Geros, making faces and grunting at the old bear.
“What am I doing?” Mr. Andvari asked.
“Unpacking,” Pim called out without turning around. Adrastos looked back at Maveith. He shrugged.
“Well, then get a-goin.” Mr. Andvari attached a leather and corded harness to his katana and slung it over each shoulder. The katana hung solidly at an angle on his back. He picked up his pack and headed for a large tree about twenty feet up the slope and disappeared behind it. This tree, unlike the one in the road, was extremely tall, like most of the trees. It was as wide as two humans put together. He peeked back around the tree, looking at the kids. “Are you deaf? Quit gawking at me. Get your stuff off, already, and help Pim unpack Geros and get our gear up here.” His head disappeared behind the tree again.
They unpacked the gear off the old bear but left his harness on, then humped the gear up the slope to the tree. The trunk had a gaping hole in its base on the northern side like a cave. Mr. Andvari’s pack was tucked deep inside.
“Put your stuff in there,” he said, pointing. “All you need with you is your weapon, your weapon harness, and your rope.” Adrastos looked at Maveith and smiled. He lowered his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly.
“There’s no telling,” Adrastos said. “He’s got some kind of training in mind. Probably a new kata. I bet he makes us do it on this mountain. Who knows.”
Mr. Andvari walked over to Penelopas. He moved above her on the slope making her turn her back to the other kids. He took her pack, tossing it to Maveith. “Put this in that cranny, please,” he said, never taking his eyes off Penelopas. Mr. Andvari leaned in toward her hood and whispered. At that range, he could see her face beneath the shadow of her hood. She shook her head lightly at first, then violently. He touched her forearm and patted her, still whispering to her. Maveith saw her head drop as she unfastened her charcoal grey cloak embroidered along the hem, hood and fastener in black ivy. She folded it into a square and tossed it to Maveith who placed it in the cranny and covered it all with a branch.
Penelopas wore a hakama—a seven-pleated, flowing pant-skirt, long and black, tied high on her thin waist. She wore a black, sleeveless raw silk shirt that wrapped behind her neck and crossed her body, then tied at the waist snuggly with black silk ribbon. Thin, charcoal grey gloves covered her arm just beneath the shoulder. Her long midnight blue hair cascaded down her back. On the back of her skull were several leather straps tied in bows.
“I’ve never seen her without her cloak,” Adrastos remarked out loud. “What’s going on, Pim?”
“I don’t know,” he said, as surprised as her. Maveith turned toward Pim. “I really don’t know,” clarified Pim.
Mr. Andvari whispered some more to Penelopas. She nodded and stood silent, her back to the kids still facing the slope. He walked around her and down the slope to the group, petting her shoulder as he moved by.
“The salt mine is not quite as far away as I made you think. We are taking a slight detour.” He looked at Maveith and winked. “I’m going to work you…hard. But it will be fun.” Adrastos’ eyes widened and she grinned. Mr. Andvari walked downhill toward the other kids.
“Think you can keep up with me, Mavey?” cracked Adrastos. She laughed and sprinted up the slope toward Mr. Andvari. He grabbed her by the elbow. Rarr, with war hammer slung over his shoulder, danced around her and bolted up the hill.
“Rarr, wait! I’m not done,” Mr. Andvari shouted, but the barbarian was screeching as he ran. “It’ll have to wait.” Adrastos sighed deeply. Mr. Andvari turned toward the group. “Up the hill you go.”
The breeze continued to blow lightly, rustling the leaves. The squirrels and birds were chittering, but the kids didn’t notice. Rarr was skipping and jumping up the slope as he went along. Pim strapped his shield and spear on his back and walked up the hill past Mr. Andvari and Adrastos to Penelopas. He crossed in front of Penelopas and glanced back at her. Pim stopped. He gasped lightly and opened his mouth.
“Keep walking!” hollered Mr. Andvari. Pim turned, moved as if to look back, shook his head and headed up the hill. “The rest of you keep your eyes on your surroundings, not each other.” He cinched down on Adrastos’ elbow making her turn and look at him. The dwarf raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. “Don’t be.” He paused, then lowered his voice to a deep gurgle. “Don’t be a … you.” Adrastos nodded and he let go of her elbow. Mr. Andvari glanced back and Maveith, nudged his head toward the top of the hill, then turned and—joined by Penelopas—walked up the hill.
The bevy crested a ridge, standing at the edge of a cliff overlooking a lush, flat valley. The mountains were tall, stretching toward The Great Forge, burning high in the sky where Móđir and Sindri—the All-Smiths who forged life—existed. The forest was full of green and life, climbing partway up the mountains and filling the valleys.
“What are we doing?” asked Adrastos, missing the beauty of the All-Smith’s creation as she fiddled with her dagger. “I’m tired of standing and looking at a bunch of trees.”
Mr. Andvari remained still; Penelopas followed suit. Pim kicked a rock on the ground and drug his boot through the dirt. Rarr climbed a tree and sat on a branch eating a line of ants foraging for food as Maveith finally crested the ridge.
“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Mr. Andvari announced to no one in particular. He looked at Penelopas standing next to him. “You remember that old, gnarly tree in the middle of the road down in the basin?” Penelopas nodded. “What did you think of it?” She shrugged, uninterested in trees and flowers. “Tell me the difference between that one and these.” He pointed to the majestic trees towering in the forest, straight and tall and full.
“The one in the road was short and twisted.” laughed Adrastos. “And ugly.”
“And these,” he asked.
“They are straight and tall. The leaves are really green and pretty,” Pim chimed in, smiling.
“Yep. They sure are. We cut them down to make all kinds of things because they are so straight. You can’t make anything out of that gnarly beast in the valley. But…” He paused and smiled. “… the leaves of that ugly, old tree are incredibly powerful. Smash it and use the milky liquid to heal fevers and diarrhea.” Penelopas grimaced. “Gross. I know, but it’s true. Dry the leaves and combine it with another root to make a tea. You can slow someone’s heart down to almost nothing.” Mr. Andvari nudged Penelopas and smiled. “What you call ugly, I call beautiful and strong.”
“And scary,” she murmured.
“Maybe. Sometimes. But still beautiful and powerful and necessary. Just like you, Penelopas …” He stepped away from Penelopas and turned to the group.
Penelopas wore a hard, black leather mask stitched together in odd places to match the curves of her face with cutouts for the eyes, nose, and mouth. It was tied on with three black silk ribbons. One was attached to the top and stretched down the back of her head. The other two were attached to the side and wrapped behind, tied into the vertical one. Her nose was nothing more than a bump with two misshapen holes. Her lips were thin, nearly gone. The leather under Penelopas’ eyes was dark, soaked with tears and snot that ran down the inside and outside of her mask. Her striking copper eyes stared at the other wards.
“This is a big deal for your friend,” Mr. Andvari commanded softly. “I want you to listen carefully and think ….” He looked at Adrastos. “… Before you speak. “When Penelopas was young she was in a fire and burned very badly over most of her body. It almost killed her.” He paused, looking at his wards. “A wild sage saved her life, but he couldn’t heal her scars. After that, her family didn’t want her. Her parents believe she was burned as a curse by the guardians for some evil deed they had done. The guilt was too much and they could not look at her.” He paused again. “She’s been called a monster—evil. People have pointed and stared; children run away from her, scared and screaming.” He turned back toward Penelopas. “This is your friend. And she is scared to show you who she is—and what she looks like.”
Pim teared up.
Maveith stood and stared at her face.
Adrastos approached Penelopas inches from her face. “Hmmm. You don’t look that scary to me. Take the mask off and see if that’s worse.”
“Adrastos!” exclaimed Pim.
“What?” she shot back never taking her eyes off Penelopas. “I bet the mask is scarier than your real face.”
“The mask is not really to hide but …” said Mr. Andvari. “Why don’t you tell them, Penelopas.”
“The mask helps my burns heal and smooth out.”
“What?” laughed Adrastos.
“It’s true,” Penelopas said. “An old man with white bushy eyebrows found me near a river bank. My parents just left me there. He picked me up and took me to his hut. He nursed me back to health. He saved my life. He made me a mask and tied it on really tight. He told me it would help my skin heal.”
“Most people do not live after burns like hers,” offered Mr. Andvari.
“So, if Pai Mei tells me to wear a mask, I wear a mask.”
“Are you going to take it off?” asked Maveith. The kids all turned and stared at him, but he focused on Penelopas. She shrugged.
“You are like the trees,” Pim squeaked out, his voice starting to change. That’s why you told us the story, right?” he said looking at Mr. Andvari, but the dwarf looked at Penelopas.
“Penelopas?”
“You won’t scream will you?” The wet spots of her mask were growing. “Or run away?”
“No,” announced Maveith. The others looked at him again then shook their heads.
Penelopas reached behind her head and untied her mask. She held it against her chest as she cried.
“You see. I knew that mask was scarier than your face.” Adrastos turned and looked into the valley. “Let’s move. I’m bored.
Pim moved forward. He was crying. He hugged her, pulled away, sniffed and wiped his hands on his eyes. He left tear and snot stains on her shirt. Maveith stood back and stared at her, emotionless. Penelopas caught his eyes and studied his face trying to figure out what he was thinking. Maveith smiled, waved, and walked away.
“You did it,” Mr. Andvari whispered as he moved close to her side. Pim snuggled her other side. “They’ve seen the real you and no one ran away shrieking in fear or tried to run you out of our family.” She nodded, still crying, and rested her head on top of her dwarf mentor’s.
“I want to put my mask back on.” Penelopas straightened herself, rubbed her eyes and nose on her long gloves and tied her mask back on. Pimgin moved toward the others.
“Okay! Enough blubbering for one day. Follow me. Single file. You go where I go. Do what I do. We’re practicing par’quor, the art of moving through your environment. Easy, right?” Mr. Andvari ran to a tree, rebounded from it and propelled himself to the lower limb of a nearby tree. He sat on the limb and smiled. Pim shook his head, clearly afraid of the adventure. Rarr howled and ran for the tree. He rebounded and flew through the air, grabbing Mr. Andvari’s dangling leg. Rarr climbed his teacher’s body and perched himself next to Mr. Andvari.
“Arrrrar!”
“I’m not teaching you to fight.” He scanned the group, looking each kid in the eye as he spoke calm but clear. “I’m teaching you to overcome your fear, channel your thoughts, focus your mind, and command your body.” Mr. Andvari hopped out of the tree.
He led them into the valley below where there were boulders of many sizes. Some were the size of wagons and carts. Others the size of chairs and stools. For the next hour they practiced bounding and rebounding, moving from one object to the other, balancing on top, then starting again. Adrastos, of course, was excellent and rarely fell. Her mountain goat body skipped easily across the rocks; she was born to it.
Pim and Penelopas, on the other hand struggled. Neither had much experience with athletics or acrobatics. Again and again they slipped on stone and crashed onto the ground, soaking the dirt with blood and sweat. Mr. Andvari worked with them more closely, guiding them across the rocks. Pim’s body took the most abuse; his clothes were rubbed and ripped and he stunk of blood and soil and arm pit. Pim hesitated as he took an especially long jump from a tall boulder. The fear, even for just a second, was enough to cause him to not give his all. He missed the landing, smashed his face into the stone, his skin grinding against the boulder as he dropped. Pim landed and looked up at Maveith who watched while leaning against a tree with his arms crossed.
“Why doesn’t he have to do this?” Pim snarled as he limped off.
“He’s afraid I’ll show him up, Pim. That’s all!” Adrastos laughed.
“Everyone’s afraid,” Pim squinted at Maveith. “Even the ones who think they are too good because their mommies and daddies are important clerics of Yauuh.”
“If you have air enough to yell at one another, then maybe you need to practice more,” said Mr. Andvari. Pim shot him a look nastier than the one he gave to Maveith. “Let’s move on.
The bevy crawled out the valley and up to the ridge of another mountain. They played follow the leader for another forty-five minutes, watching Mr. Andvari as he dodged shrubs, hopped over small stumps and fallen trees. He spoke the whole time, explaining how to move through the environment smoothly and using the obstacles to propel the body further. He finished by demonstrating the tuck-and-roll under a clump of low-hanging branches then popped up, turned, and faced them.
“Your turn,” he exclaimed. “One by one, now. Stay in a line and give each other some space. But not too much space.” Mr. Andvari folded his arms. “Adrastos! Go!”
Adrastos launched through the gauntlet. She dodged the shrubs and easily popped over the trees. When she came to the low-hanging branches, she gained speed, then landed on her side easily siding underneath and into a standing position again. She was panting as she turned to the bevy and raised her hands above her and snapped her head. Adrastos was followed by Penelopas.
“Guardians!” Pim gasped to Maveith. “He’s … fast.”
Maveith frowned but said nothing. He was breathing slowly, controlling his breath.
“Dwarves are much faster than I thought,” murmured Penelopas.
“And more nimble,” added Pim.
“Yeah, that too,” she said.
When Penelopas finished, Maveith pushed Pim forward. He stumbled and fell. Maveith closed his eyes for a moment and continued to breath slowly. Pim stood up, turned and snarled at Maveith, then ran. He made the first two shrubs but his foot caught the third and he fell again. Pim scrambled up and ran to a fallen tree. He stopped in front of it, laid his belly on it and swung his body across. As he did, Rarr dove over Pim and the tree, flipped in the air, landed on his feet and continued to run. Adrastos hooted. Pim panted out a curse, and loped to the low-hanging branches. He was short enough that he ducked and waddled underneath. Mr. Andvari patted him on the shoulder.
“Your working hard, Pimgin Xofire,” Mr. Andvari said as he smiled. “This is not easy.”
“I think it’s pretty easy,” Adrastos said with her arms crossed.
“Quiet, you.” Mr. Andvari reached back and flicked her on the forehead with his hard, calloused middle finger. It left a red spot. “Owww!” she barked rubbing her head.
Maveith finished walking the course and joined the group.
“I want everyone to run the gauntlet again until I tell you to quit.” Mr. Andvari glanced at Maveith, smiled and winked. “Just skip the branches at the end.”
The bevy turned to walk the course and start at the beginning. Mr. Andvari grabbed Pim’s and Penelopas’ arms. “Not you two,” he whispered, then looked at the bevy walking back to the beginning of the course. “Hey! Don’t walk back,” he barked. “I didn’t tell anyone to walk. Run it. Backwards!” He looked back down at Pim who was red in the face and still panting. “We’re going to practice somersaults. You and me. Together.” Pim signed. Penelopas rolled her eyes and groaned. “We’ll start with a tuck and roll on the ground. Then we’ll work toward doing it from a standing position, okay?”
Mr. Andvari knelt on the ground and demonstrated the first move. He shaped their bodies and guided them as the rest of the bevy ran the course, over and over, until both Pim and Penelopas could complete the tuck and roll on their own. Penelopas leaned it quickly, but continued to practice.
“Pimgin, you are doing well,” Mr. Andvari said happily.
“But I’m not going straight!” he cried.
“I know,” Mr. Andvari patted him on the shoulder. “But Pim!” he exclaimed. “You are tumbling now where you weren’t before. That’s fast progress.”
“She’s doing it straight,” Pim sniffed as he pointed at Penelopas.
“And you will too. Very soon. Do not rush, my boy, and do not fret. We all walk our own paths and at our own pace. No two are alike. I’m proud of you.” Mr. Andvari stood. “Enough. Let’s move on.”
Adrastos clip-clopped up to Pim. “How was remedial rolling, Pimmyboo,” she snorted. Mr. Andvari spun and flicked her in the forehead with his middle finger again—twice–in the same spot. “By Sindri’s bones!”
“Hey!” exclaimed Maveith. “Shut your mouth.” The bevy, even Adrastos, froze and stared at Maveith. “I don’t care what you say, but you don’t curse the guardians and you sure don’t curse the gods that created us. That’s just asking for it.”
They finally reached a flat opening in the trees. The Sappan Mountain range they followed from the abbey ended in the distance. The next mountain range crossed the first. To the right, the Nahar River sparkled in the sun light. Mr. Andvari sat down. The bipeds looked at one another and flopped down, too, lying on the ground moaning. Adrastos, the quadruped, stood effortlessly with a smile.
“One last training,” Mr. Andvari said, “and then we’re off to the salt mine.” Pim moaned louder; Adrastos laughed loudly. For the first time, Penelopas made a comment. No one could understand what she said, but her harsh tone said enough. Mr. Andvari got up, tied his rope to a tree, and tossed his rope over the edge of the cliff. “We’ve practiced rappelling for weeks. It’s time you tried it on your own.” He kicked off and disappeared under the cliff.
Adrastos was first down the cliff. She didn’t rappel; instead, finding a side with tiny ledges, she just clip-clopped her goat-self down easy enough. She made it almost before Mr. Andvari. When she hit the ground, she found a nice spot of thick grass in the shade, folded her legs beneath her body, and rested.
Penelopas, Maveith, and Rarr tied ropes to the tree and rappelled together. Pim stood at the edge and watched them descend.
“Come on, Pimmers,” shouted Mr. Andvari. You can do this.” Pim moved away from the edge and sat down where he couldn’t see the bevy anymore. “Pim?” said Mr. Andvari. “Are you tying your rope off, buddy?”
“Come on, arxidi! Quit your crying and just do it!” Adrastos shouted.
“Leave him be, Adrastos,” barked Mr. Andvari as he picked up a stick and tossed it at her.
“Maybe you need your mommy to come and carry you down,” she snarked.
“You are a skýla!” shouted Penelopas. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m just kidding,” pipped Adrastos. “Besides, he needs to toughen up.”
“You know he doesn’t have parents. Why would you tease him about that?” Mr. Andvari sighed heavily as he walked toward the cliff base to climb the rope and rescue Pim.
“Can I go get him?” asked Maveith. Mr. Andvari turned, perplexed.
“I, uh…I guess…sure.” Mr. Andvari stuttered in surprise. “Yes. Yes.”
Maveith grabbed the rope and climbed it without using his legs. He glided up the rope as smooth as a spider climbing its web. He came to the top, grabbed the ledge, and lifted himself into a handstand, up and over the cliff side with uncanny strength and ease. Mr. Andvari snapped his head in surprise toward Penelopas and shrugged his shoulders. She did the same.
“Who knew? That tall drink of water can do something,” laughed Adrastos. I may just like him.”
Pimgin sat on the ground, his knees pulled up to his chest, his face buried. His chest heaved as he cried. Maveith sashayed to Pim and sat down.
“Go away!” Pim said, without moving.
“You were right,” whispered Maveith, looking out over the land. “I am afraid, but not of the par’quor or the cliff. That’s easy for me.”
“Whatever,” cried Pim. “Just make fun of me already and go away. Call me a cry baby.”
“I’m afraid of my parents.”
“I don’t have parents,” said Pimgin.
“Yeah, Adrastos made that pretty clear. I wish I didn’t have parents.”
“No, you don’t.” Pim shouted angrily. “You’re stupid. I’d give anything to have parents.”
“My parents hate me.”
“I doubt that,” Pim said through a tear-choked cough.
“I disappoint them. They want me to be a cleric of Yauuh just like them.” Maveith propped his torso up with his hands behind him and looked at the sky.
“So?” questioned Pim.
“They want me to be something I’m not,” said Maveith. “It’s not me. Not who I am.” Pim’s sobbing stopped. He wiped his eyes and looked at Maveith.
“Who are you, then?” asked Pim, his voice calmer.
“You’ll laugh at me if I tell you.”
“Then I won’t be the only one who gets laughed at today, will I?” They laughed together.
“Alright. I want to be a…” he stopped mid sentence. Maveith had never said it aloud–never admitted it to anyone before, except his parents. “I just wanna dance.” He stared off into the distance, refusing to look at the boy next to him. Pim nudged him in the ribs.
“Really?”
“I know it’s stupid, but I can’t help it.” For several minutes they sat together in silence, staring at the landscape. “I want to be on stage. I want to dance for people and have them cheer for me.”
“Are you good at war?” asked Pim.
“Yeah.” Maveith
“Can you do both?”
“I don’t like hurting people anymore. I want to make people happy, but my parents won’t let me. They say I am destined to be a great warrior.” He pointed to the orchid pink markings on his skin. “See these?” Pim reached out and ran his finger down one of the markings on Maveith’s arm.
“Yeah.”
“All behemoths have these.” He stared at his forearm and picked at the godmarks with his fingernail. “They’re supposed to foretell our future. The shaman says I will become the greatest war priest for Yauuh my clan has seen for hundreds of years. But I don’t care about any of that.” Maveith lowered his head. “I got my wish. I don’t have to fight anymore.” He pulled a folded parchment from a small pouch hanging from his belt and handed it to Pim.
Maveith,
We have raised you in the great traditions of our family and given you every opportunity. Yet, you refuse to accept our love and guidance and you rebel against your family and our guardian. It goes against everything this family believes. You throw away your talents and scoff at the destiny foretold on your skin. We’ve done everything we can to help you, but you throw it in our faces and reject what Yauuh has planned for you.
We cannot accept your choices in life. We no longer have a son. You are dead to us.
Pim stared at the parchment. Maveith sat cold next to him trying not to make eye contact for fear of crying. Pim folded up the paper and handed it back to Maveith.
“I got the note this morning; it was stuffed in my gear.” Maveith’s voice squeaked.
“You are a real Leftover,” said Pim. “You belong with us.”
Maveith bobbed his head lightly. “I can show you how to rappel,” Maveith said, wiping a few tears from his eyes with his bare skin.
“I’m not strong enough to make it that far. I’ll fall,” moaned Pim.
“I’m strong enough for both of us. You can hold on to me and I’ll take us both down,” Maveith offered.
Pim wiped his tears, too, and agreed. They got up and went to the edge. Maveith bent down and Pim got on his back, wrapping his legs around the thin behemoth tightly. Pim laced his hands around Maveith’s neck, choking him. Maveith adjusted Pim’s hands.
“You can’t hold my neck. I have to breathe,” Maveith said. “Hold on tight with your legs, but looser with your arms. You’ll be stable. Trust me.”
Pim buried his face in Maveith’s back, one hand around his shoulder and the other wrapped around his chest under his arm. Maveith grabbed the rope and descended, bouncing quickly down the cliff face. They hit the ground and Pim dismounted. Mr. Andvari pointed at Adrastos and shook his head sternly. She giggled but stayed quiet. He turned.
“Okay, then. Let’s head out.” He headed back west, down another steep slope. Maveith and Pim walked past the other kids, right behind Mr. Andvari. They scrolled through the forest silently for a long time before Penelopas walked up to Maveith.
“Adrastos is an orea,” she said matter-of-factly. “The orea were bred as slaves to work in the most dangerous parts of the mountains and mines.” She glanced in his direction, but he made no acknowledgement. “Anyway, the orea weren’t even allowed to speak. They finally fought back and won their freedom. Being half beast, the orea are very sensitive to animals being used by us for manual labor. It reminds her and her people of their days of slavery.”
Maveith watched Penelopas move her hands as she spoke.
“Orea don’t eat meat because of how animals are bred just to feed us.” Penelopas grimaced. “So, when you suggested she carry someone like a domestic animal, well, to her that’s like slavery and you insulted her,” Penelopas continued.
“Oh,” he said. “I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, I know,” Penelopas said. The edge of her mouth turned up slightly.
They descended the final slope and landed on the road once again. To the right, about one hundred yards, stood the gnarled, old tree in the middle of the road. Mr. Andvari pulled out his whistle and headed back to the tree in the forest where they hid they packs. They gathered their items just as Geros appeared from the forest. They packed the old bear back up and headed down the road in their original formation. The kids were exhausted. Stink wafted from them, their clothes dirty and wet from the workout.
“Mr. Andvari!” Maveith called loudly from the rear. “Why no swords? No battleaxes or glaives?”
“I’m not teaching you to fight or kill. You are too young to shed that kind of blood,” said Mr. Andvari. “I’m teaching you to gain control over your minds and bodies. You need to defend yourselves. We can do that without slashing and piercing weapons.”
Adrastos dropped back out of her zone toward Maveith. “Mr. Andvari is pretty rigid when it comes to killing, but apparently his ethics are fuzzy when it comes to crushing knee caps and rib cages. Thus, we carry bludgeoning weapons.”
“What about the spears and trident?” Maveith asked. “Those are bladed.”
“They’re blunt,” Adrastos said, as she rolled her eyes, “and unsharpened. Mostly, he just wants us to treat us like babies.”
Mr. Andvari stopped and turned. He motioned for Maveith to approach. They stood close, facing one another. “You kids will lose if you fight a soldier this close. Melee is no good for you, yet.” He pulled a typical doubled-edged short sword and round shield from Geros’ side and faced off against Adrastos. Mr. Andvari thrust his sword at her; the goat girl parried the attack and side-stepped him, then moved in for a thrust of her own with a smile. Mr. Andvari deflected the thrust with his sword and crashed the girl in the chest with his shield, knocking her to the ground. He stood over her, his sword at her throat. He stood over her for a moment, then backed up, giving Adrastos space.
“You won’t win melee against most adults. Kids and teens? Sure. Farmers and merchants? Maybe. Fully-grown, trained adults? You will die quickly.” He went back to Geros, and pulled out a spear, tossing it to Adrastos. “With a reach weapon, you can keep your enemy at a distance, which increases your odds of surviving.” He jabbed at Adrastos with his sword and moved. “You kids are smaller and quick. You can use that to your advantage especially against dwarves. We’re not known for being fast.” Adrastos was quick. Her goat legs made her nimble, much more so than humans, dwarves and the like. “Now move back,” he ordered. She stepped back six feet from him. “Now, strike me like I taught you.” She thrust and recoiled, moving in a circle around him. “Dance, girl!” he shouted. Mr. Andvari thrust toward her and she stepped back. “Not back. Side!” They went again. Every time he thrust, she dodged right or left, thrust, then moved again. “See that?” He stopped and scanned the kids. “I can’t set up against her. Every time I plant, she moves, making me move and rethink.” He bowed his head at her, then tossed his shield and spear to Pim. “Adults will use their weight and strength against you. Until you learn how to counter that, we stick with ranged weapons. It keeps you away and lets you use your speed against them. They will underestimate you because you are kids. That will save your life.”
Mr. Andvari turned and motioned for them to follow him. “You don’t want to kill, trust me. It’s not as glorious as the stories make it out to be. I’m teaching you to survive. To do that, you must first control your fear.” He stopped and turned to them. His voice changed; it was deep and eerily calm. His eyes were pointed. “Fear is death. Fear controls us. Manipulates our minds. Consumes our souls. Fear makes you angry and anger makes you hate. Hate is death.” He scanned them again. His voice loosened and he smiled… “Let’s face it. You kids and I, we all have felt plenty of fear and more reasons than most to hate.” He turned back around and continued down the forest road. “Controlling that fear makes you strong and brings you peace.”
They walked for more than an hour, mostly in silence until the forest ended. They walked into a clearing. The mountain range they followed from the abbey was bisected by another mountain range. The intersection was known as Grayskull Pass. Where a forest followed along the base of the Sappon Mountains, the intersecting range, known as Mount Kasios, had none. The soil was rocky and sandy, home to wild grasses. The plains extended for miles. The capitol city D’wyee was built around the northern tip of Yammu Lake, rich with merchants, artisans, taverns, inns, apothecaries, and healers—a bustling cityscape. The southern end of the lake was dammed, and from it flowed Nahar River, which twisted toward Mount Kasios upon which the salt city, Halibios, was built.
In the south, the merchants dealt mostly with salt in the day time and more unsavory activities at night. The structures were ramshackle huts and hovels of scum and villainy. What little security force was present was owned and run by the salt mine protecting its interests above all others. Above the road a banner flapped in the wind: “Welcome to Halibios, Home of the Eisley Salt Mine & Emporium.” To the east of the road was a comfortable grassland peppered with tents and temporary encampments of salt-seekers. Most did their business during the day and left, leaving the town to its own devices. Those seeking debauchery stayed in the inns and caroused at night.
The sun was descending behind the mountain peaks in the west casting a purple and crimson hue in the sky. Mr. Andvari spied a plot on the edge of the campsites big enough for his lean-to and the wards’ bedrolls. Smoke swirled upwards in thin tendrils from a rock circle in the middle of the plot. Looking for Pim, Mr. Andvari turned to his left. Pim circled him on the right.
“I’ll build camp there.” Mr. Andvari startled at Pim’s voice.
“Yeah. I was just thinking that,” muttered Mr. Andvari.
“I know,” said Pimgin.
“Of course you do,” muttered Mr. Andvari as Pim untied Geros’ straps. The kids moved to Geros, too, and started making camp. Pim directed Maveith to get Mr. Andvari’s lean-to and face it to the east. He handed Adrastos the cyprus tent poles.
“Don’t forget to face my lean-to east,” said Mr. Andvari. Maveith cocked his head and stared at Pim, but he didn’t notice. Pim just worked. Adrastos, however, did notice Maveith watching Pim instead of working.
“Andvari rule number one when adventuring,” she said. “No one eats until camp is up and a fire is made.” That got Maveith moving. Even Rarr helped. Pim directed him to unlash the trunk on Geros’ back, pointing at Mr. Andvari. Rarr took the trunk and laid it as his feet.
“That’s for tonight. You are going into town tonight, aren’t you?” asked Pim.
“Yes. Thank you.” Mr. Andvari shook his head at Pim, smiled, and opened the trunk. Inside were six canvas bags and a small package wrapped in banana leaves and tied. Mr. Andvari pulled it to his nose and smelled. Foggy Corpse cheese. Good idea, Pim, he thought. That will come in handy if I need to trade.
Facing east was Mr. Andvari’s lean-to. It was a canvas tent with a rectangular back and top. The sides were triangular and the front was open. Cypress poles criss-crossed at each end. A single cypress pole ran the expanse between the sides. The apex of the tent tied all along the top pole. Smaller cypress poles held up the front of the top flap. The rock circle—still smoldering from the previous campers—sat close to the lean-to, allowing the heat from the fire to keep the tent warm despite not having a front. The smoke barreled out the small gap between the side and top. Spring nights were often cold.
“How come we don’t get a tent?” Maveith asked Penelopas as the two of them peeled potatoes and cut zucchini for the night’s meal. She was wearing her cloak again, her hood up, covering her face.
“Mr. Andvari says when we get fat and old, we can have a tent, too. Until then, we sleep outside.” She shrugged and kept peeling. “I think he hurts more than he lets on.” Inside his tent was a pile of hides and blankets. His bedroll was laid out on top of them. She pointed to them and Maveith nodded. Rarr gathered abandoned stumps and logs from old camps around the makeshift shantytown and sat them in a circle around the campfire so everyone had places to sit. Mr. Andvari had a tiny wooden chair set up inside his tent; it was a small camp chair more fitting for Rarr. It was a clever design, though. It was made of two sections that, when stored, laid parallel, one inside the other. When set up, the sections were perpendicular.
Mr. Andvari brushed Geros while the kids set up camp. He whispered and sang to the old bear for nearly an hour, brushing him from head to toe. When he finished, Andvari gathered up his trunk and slung it over his shoulder along with a wine skin. His only weapons were his katana and the blade he carried horizontally on the back of his belt. He and Geros lumbered to town just as the sun disappeared beneath the mountains.
Pim sat in Mr. Andvari’s chair in the lean-to next to the fire. He sliced an auroch tenderloin into quarter-inch slices, dusted them in flour, and fried them in his cast iron skillet over the fire. In another skillet he cooked onions and potatoes until the edges burned. Everyone loved Pim’s potatoes because he not only salt and peppered them, but added a little dab of molasses and a dash of cayenne pepper. It was unique way of preparing onions and potatoes: crunchy on the outside, tender inside with sweet heat on the back of the palate.
Maveith and Rarr squatted around the skillet and snatched fried auroch out of the hot pan before it could cool. The tips of their fingers burned from pulling the meat from the hot oil, but it was as good as they’d ever had and they couldn’t wait. Adrastos, uncomfortable eating animals no different than herself, was a vegetarian so she stuck to the potatoes and sautéed zucchini. Pim was good to always cook meatless dishes for her. Pim cooked much more than they could eat. He piled the leftovers into one pan and moved from camp to camp, offering food to other salt-seekers in the campground.
“Hey, Adrastos,” Maveith asked as he washed plates and she dried. “Why did Pim cook so much just to give it away? We could use that food later?”
“Uh, because we’re not kolotripas,” Penelopas said matter-of-factly. Adrastos took a plate from him that he scrubbed too long and dried it. “We know what it’s like be hungry and to have nothing.”
“We make friends that way,” said Adrastos. “Never know when you might need those friends.”
Penelopas frowned as the light of the fire exposed her mask more than she realized. “Some people are nice just to be nice, Adrastos,” snapped Penelopas. “You don’t always have to get something from them.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t hurt,” Adrastos chortled. “Allies are allies and can come in handy in a tight spot.”
After dinner they sat around the campfire telling ghost stories as well as tales of Aatami and Efa and The Great Forge. Rarr played with the skull of an opossum he found nearby. He hooted and snarled and pretended the bones were alive, holding conversations with it. After a while, Penelopas stood up and dug through the packs.
“It’s in the secondary pack, the smaller one,” called Pim. Penelopas ignored him.
“What?” she said as she dug through the large pack.
“It’s in the smaller pack next to you.” Penelopas pivoted her head around at him.
“You don’t even know what I’m looking for,” she snapped.
“The Parable of Sindri & Móđir?” he asked. Penelopas put items back in the large pack and moved to the smaller one. She pulled the book from the pack and turned to Rarr.
“Hey Rarr?” she asked. He continued playing with the skull, opening and closing its mouth and chattering. “Would you like me to read you a story?” Rarr jumped up, his new friend still in hand, and loped like an orangutan toward Penelopas, using his free hand as a leg. Penelopas sat crisscross on the ground in front of her stump seat, a book lying next to her. When Rarr reached her, he rolled into a sideways somersault, tucking his skull into his body to protect it. He rolled into a standing position between Penelopas and the fire, facing the flames. Rarr froze and hunkered slightly—his butt sticking out—then slowly shuffled backwards until his ankles touched her criss-crossed legs. Then he dropped, plopping right in her lap.
The wild boy clung to his skull-friend, pressing it against his chest with his left hand while he slipped the middle and ring fingers of his right hand into his mouth, sucking his fingers. Pim took a candle lantern hanging on a cypress tent pole and moved it to toward Penelopas, sitting it on the empty stump behind her. The honeyed aura of the candle flittered against the gold and silver leaf embossing and bright colored pigments on the pages.
Rarr was kinetic energy personified. He twittered and fiddled and fidgeted all day. Even in his sleep he kicked and tossed. The only time he sat still was when someone read to him. For that, he would sit forever, sucking his fingers. The story Penelopas chose—one of Rarr’s favorites—was an old book, bound in the ancient orihon style. It had a front and back leather cover, richly illustrated. Instead of individual pages, it was one long page folded like an accordion so it could be read page-by-page or opened up and laid out into one large story.
Penelopas performed the tale as an actor on a stage, voicing each character and adding mannerisms, all while holding the boy-beast and the book.
Oh come—my children—come and hear the tale
Of Sindri and Móđir the gods of life and breath.
Pim moved to the ground and placed his elbows on his thighs, resting his head in his hands. Adrastos sat with her four legs folded beneath her goat body. Maveith smiled, remembering when his mother read the same story to him as a boy.
Around the mighty suns the All-Smiths stood.
Their Great Forge heating ore, creating all. Upon the Forge—hammered they did—the stars
And suns and moons. With every spark a life.
Rarr grunted as he took his fingers out of his mouth and pointed to the radiant ochre sparks of the campfire meandering upwards with the smoke then burning into black ash.
“That’s right, Rarr,” agreed Penelopas. “Sparks just like the ones in the campfire.”
The boy made two hooted grunts and smiled around the fingers back in his mouth. Other campers heard her yarn and gathered around the Leftover fire for evening entertainment.
When thousand strikes and countless sparks they made
The Sister-Wife—Móđir—she cried to Him,
Oh Brother-Husband, man of mine, hear me!
I wish to forge one world that is just ours.
A people, flowers, creatures, fish and all.
Penelopas ran her open hand in front of her showing off their world. Rarr nodded and grunted.
A hunk of ore He pulled from fire to form
His precious lover’s world. Then turned to Her.
Dear heart I do profess my love. He perched
It on the All-Anvil, swirling with light.
Móđir she shaped Her hunk of ore with love.
Her hammer struck and sparks did fly abound.
And soon her world was roundly shaped just so.
Then Sindri hung the newborn world right there
And spun it round the nothingness of space.
As she finished the sentence, Penelopas took her hand and pretended to have a ball in it. She extended her arm and placed the invisible ball in the air, the pretended to spin it, just like Sindri.
Behold! Our forge it nurtures our new babe
And cradles her in warmth and golden love.
Oh Sindri spat upon and lakes did form.
So, lo, did she, Móđir, take from her hair
A purple iris placed so sweetly there.
On the ground it soon took root and from
This plant did sprout all seeds and growing things.
In time the green and blue did meet upon
The surface world and formed a friendly bond.
My Brother-Husband creatures need do I.
All shapes, all types that we may play with them.
Guffawed He did! For toys they never had.
My Sister-Wife so brilliant you must be.
May I—good dear—create of them the first?
An exclamation did She give—Oh ho!
Across her lips a smile and nod did grow.
More raw did Sindri pull from flame and smoke.
With tools of old he carved a mold for them.
Then smelted ore and filled his forms anew:
Rarr bounced in her lap and hooted loudly.
“You know what comes next, don’t you?” Penelopas cocked her head over and looked at Rarr. He turned to her. He kept his fingers in his mouth, but his lips widened not touching his fingers.
“And. And. And,” he burst out.
“That’s right,” Penelopas said looking up at the rest of the bevy for a moment. Everyone watched her except for Maveith. He was staring at the ground. “The dwarves like Mr. Andvari.”
The Aether. First. The Breath of All-Smiths stood.
The dwarves were first to stand upon the forge
So stocky, thick, and strong of shape and will.
The elves were next and found a home nearby.
Oh svelte and lithe those sages—saints of life.
Then came the rest: the breeds, races galore
But handfuls each—so few—and nothing more.
Held hands they did—Móđir, Sindri—and gazed
Upon their work. Take breath! They said. Take breath!
And to this world gave life, and much desire.
Penelopas took a deep breath and blew fiercely as Rarr’s eyes widened. Pim, she noticed, took breath and blew at the same time.
The Aether Dwarves were structured seven and three:
A father, mother, boys and girl, and add
To them an aunt and uncle too. And more.
The Aether Elves drew thrice; their names unknown.
But from those bones came all the other ones.
Oh humans. Humans! Ten of them were made.
Of wet and thick, by hand, just heated clay.
Some tall, some small. So strong, so weak were they.
Upon the ground they crawled and ate it up.
The rest were scattered over here and there.
All races, beasts, and creatures forged at once.
The casts of which were polished, rubbed and loved.
According to its worth each one was set.
Released to live a life—to thrive and be.
But they were scared—and hid—these sweet new things.
The sun and sea and all the life: Too much!
Rarr gasped and took his fingers out of his mouth as he looked at Penelopas and frowned.
“What are they going to do, Rarr?” she asked, her face mimicking fear. He threw his hands up and howled in a wolf-like moan.
All-Smiths! They cried. All-Smiths come down to us
And show us what to do. Where hast thou gone?
And thus did they, the sibling-lovers join
Their Aether babes below. And taught them how
To live and grow and build a world to suit.
Soon after when the All-Smiths taught their babes
To fend and farm and find their unique path.
Thus agriculture, architecture—Born!
With engineering, mathematics, build
Did they. Such structures stretched into the sky
To honor gods above. Astronomy—
Brought time and days and navigation
Through seas and forests, oceans wide.
And storytelling! Ho! The All-Smiths brought
Them words and art. Record! Record! Said they.
Forget no more what you have learned from us.
Then left they did for other worlds to forge.
“Arrroooooh!” Rarr howled again standing up in Penelopas’ lap. He frowned and blew air from his nose. Then he sat smiling, sticking his fingers in his mouth again. Rarr’s eyes were wide open.
In place to watch, protect and serve, they forged
Once more a line of creature strong and wise.
The Fýlakas guard the orb so young and keep
Her safe. Oh, Akkad, green and blue and new.
They watch the land, the sky above and guard
The waters deep. And rule the creatures there.
So pray to them—my children—scared and bare,
May Fýlakas shield and champion your cause.
The All-Smiths left the world of Akkad then,
To hear no more their prayers and calls for help.
Be mindful—children—to keep your Fylakas
Commandments. Always do as you are told
By guardian, parent, and sage alike.
Penelopas smiled as she closed the book and looked down at the barbarian in her lap staring back at her with his fingers in his mouth.