This is from the first book in a fantasy trilogy.
Chapter One
A Whisper from the Past
Barely able to see, Navon took the stairs two
at a time. The hot tears of shame and rejection burned his cheeks as he tried
to distance himself from the looks of sympathy on the faces of everyone in the
Great Hall. Why? Why had his father done that to him? Was he really such a
disappointment?
The sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs
alerted him to the eminent arrival of his older brother, Altair. He ran into
his room and wiped the tears from his face. No one was going to stop him now
that he had made his decision to leave.
His brother walked in and stood there for a
moment, watching him pack, before he spoke, “Are you sure you want to do this,
Navon?”
“No, but what choice do I have Altair? You
heard Father at dinner tonight. He laid out all of his hopes and plans for
everyone in this family except me. He never mentioned my name or even looked in
my direction. You could see from everyone’s faces that they understood what was
happening. I no longer have any hope for a future as part of this family.”
The youngest of the Baron’s children, Navon
had been given a small room on the upper floor of the Keep. A giant oak, rooted
in the center of his room would have been as nothing compared to the presence
of his brother. He wished that Altair would just leave him alone with his
misery but his brother’s concern also gave him comfort. He had always been
there when Navon needed a shoulder to cry on and never laughed at his fears of
being different.
As Navon stood in front of his small
wardrobe, his light blond hair fell forward to conceal the tears that
threatened to flow again. Altair approached him from behind and placed a
comforting hand on his shoulder.
“Do you know how eagles learn to fly, little
brother?”
Unable to speak, Navon shook his head.
“The chicks spend months standing on the
edge of their nest just flapping their wings. It builds up their muscles. Then
one day, the parents will push a fledgling out of the nest. He will either
learn to fly or fall to the ground where he will die. I think Father just gave
you that push.”
When he didn’t respond, Altair turned his
brother around and with a finger under Navon’s chin, raised his head, wanting,
needing to look him in the eyes. “You have no idea how much I envy you, little
brother. The rest of us will always be chained to this Keep or at least to our
little corner of the country. Do you remember all those fantastic tales of the
world that traveling Bard regaled us with at last summer’s festival? You are
free to travel and experience those faraway places for yourself, while we are
prisoners here to our duties and responsibilities. From the day you were born,
we have all felt that you were someone special and that someday you would have
to leave us.”
Altair
reluctantly released his little brother and quickly moved towards the door.
Once there, he turned back with as fierce a look as Navon had ever seen on his
brother’s face. “Learn to fly Navon. Never forget that you are a Roddel. If you
are ever in need, send word to me and I will come regardless of what Father
says.”
Unable to concentrate on his packing after
Altair left, Navon sat on the edge of his bed trying to make sense out of what
his brother had said. A knock at his door jarred him out of his thoughts.
Wondering who it might be, he heard a soft voice outside calling.
“Navon. May I come in?”
By the Eyes! It was his mother, the last
person he expected. She had never come up to his room before, so why now? He
swung open the door to his room and answered with a bow. “Of course you may
come in Lady Mother.”
All the excuses for why he was packing that
sprang into his head melted away as he watched his mother calmly survey the
room, holding a plain wooden box in her hand. The box was like nothing he had
ever seen before. The edges had darkened with time and the simple design spoke
of an age long past.
“I knew this day would come, my son. That is
why I am here. I have something that has been in my family for many
generations. I became the bearer of this box on the day my mother passed from
this world. It is a thing of power,” she said and opened the box, removing a
triangular amulet that contained three luminescent eyes and was attached to a
small gold chain. “Once you put this around your neck, the amulet should
disappear and only you will be able to remove it.”
“Why are you giving this to me?” he asked,
unable to keep the hurt and frustration from his voice. “You have many more
sons and daughters who are more deserving of this than I.”
“Navon, no one in living memory has worn
this. Tradition says that the bearer of the box will know who is to wear the
amulet or who to pass the box on to for the next generation. The moment you
were born, I knew you were the one to wear it and that I was not to give it to
you until you were ready to leave. Please put it on, my son. It is yours.”
With trembling fingers he reached for the
amulet. The loop in the chain appeared to be too small to slip over his head.
The chain began to glow and Navon felt a tingling travel up his arms and into
his chest. The glow quickly faded and the chain separated, revealing a tiny
clasp. At a gasp from his mother, he raised his eyes and stared in awe as the
box disappeared in a flash of light. He reached behind his neck with the ends
of the chain where they snapped together to become a solid loop once again.
From the look of wonder in his mother’s eyes, he knew the amulet was no longer
visible. Unnerved by the touch of the chain, he froze as a voice in his head
whispered, “Go north.”
* * *
Far to the north, in a castle hidden deep
within the Mountains of Mists, the Ancient One raised his head and smiled. Far
to the south-west, on the Isle of Dahlian, the Stagwood Marshe trembled as
Scorpios clenched his scarred fists in a fit of rage. The slave who had been
serving him burst into flames until reduced to a small dusting of ash on the
floor.
* * *
In the morning, wearing a comfortable pair
of leather pants and vest over a light green shirt with a touch of lace at the
cuffs and neck, Navon gathered his things and went down to the kitchen. It was
early enough that he should be able to avoid everyone in the family. Now that
he had made his decision, he was eager to be on his way. He asked the cook to wrap
up some sausages in bread that he could eat while he traveled, then noticed the
furtive looks of the kitchen staff. So, it appeared that his father’s words, or
more accurately his lack of words on Navon’s behalf, had reached the rest of
the Keep. The cook’s words as he handed him the sausage rolls were unexpected,
“May the Eyes of the Deluti watch over you wherever you go, m’lord.”
The guard at the outer gate barely
acknowledged him as he trudged through using his un-strung bow as a walking
staff. Sword and knife were hung from his belt, a quiver of arrows over one
shoulder and his pack and bedroll tied to his back. The pack was only large
enough to hold a few of his prized possessions, some clothes and his herb
pouch. The old healer at the Keep had taught Navon everything he knew about
healing lore, so the pouch should come in handy.
Defending himself wouldn’t be a problem even
though he would never achieve the brute strength of his brothers. The Keep’s arms-master
judged that Navon had the quickest hands of any swordsman he’d ever taught and
his skill with a bow was un-matched by anyone in the Keep. He might only be
fifteen summers, but imagined this was what it must feel like to be a man.
Raising his face to the warmth of the morning sun, he strode away from the Keep
with a spring in his step. You were
right, big brother. It is time for me to fly.
* * *
A solitary figure stood on the ramparts of
the Keep long after Navon had faded from view. Forgive me my son, for what I had to do. Your path in this life was set
the day you were born and I fervently
hope I was able to prepare you for it. You will always be my special son. Turning
away, Baron Rodgier d’Roddel disappeared into the Keep, his beard glistening
with tears that no one would see.
