As they neared the old house, Faldon stopped as they neared the door.
“Justan, do me a favor. Please don’t tell your mother about your plans to return to the Academy. When she hears that you are going to the Mage School, she is going to be so happy. I don’t want to spoil that moment for her.”
“Of course father. I understand.”
When Justan opened the door to his childhood home, he was instantly assailed by the aromas of his mother’s cooking on the hearth. It brought back such warm memories that tears started to well up in his eyes. Then she walked into the room.
She didn’t look as he had expected at all. Perhaps it was his own guilt that had made her look so frail the last time he saw her, because when she walked into the room, he saw a vibrant, handsome woman, with a youthful smile that ran from ear to ear. She embraced him and they both cried.
Justan introduced Jhonate and his mother greeted her with a smile. Darlan had cooked up a storm. She wanted a feast fit for a king to celebrate her son’s triumphant return.
She sat them down and loaded the table. Jhonate looked at the feast with trepidation. Justan’s mouth watered. His mother was an excellent cook, and after eating Training School food for over a year, it was a welcome sight.
As the family devoured the magnificent meal, Darlan pummeled Justan with questions. She had heard a lot of talk about her son’s achievements over the past few days. The whole city had been abuzz with it and she was so proud that she nearly burst. She demanded that he tell her all about it; except for what had happened with the Scralag, he told her everything.
When he revealed that he was going to study at the Mage School for two years, she was thrilled at first. Then she became saddened as she realized that it meant he would be gone for another two years. But all in all, it was a wonderful evening. Jhonate arrived uncomfortable, but Darlan’s mood was infectious and soon it was as if she was part of the family.
After the meal, Jhonate told them she had to go. She thanked his parents and said goodbye but Justan met her at the door.
“Jhonate, wait. I need to speak with you.”
“It is alright, Justan. I will see you in the morning. Enjoy this night in your childhood home.” She squeezed his hand and smiled. “It was . . . nice tonight. It reminded me of nights with my own family. I have not seen them in a very long time. Good night, Justan.”
“Good night.”
Justan rejoined his parents and for a short time, he was able to forget about his grown-up fears. For one last night, he was just a child laughing with his parents.
Justan went to his old bedroom that night feeling very content in spite of everything. As he lay in his own bed for the first time in a year, he remembered how carefree his life had been in that house. His mother had taken care of every need and he had always felt safe with his father around as protector.
As he tried to sleep, his mind began to wander. The events of the last few days collapsed in on him. The stunning weight of the week’s revelations threatened to take him into despair. Justan could not believe how much had happened in such a small period of time. He had been learning so fast, and doing so well. He had become stronger and passed the tests. It was everything he had hoped for. Now the council tells him that he has magical powers?
That part burned in his mind most of all. Him, a wizard? There was nothing that they could have told him that would have been more destructive. Did this mean that his progress this week had been a lie? Had he been using magic during all the tests to supplement his abilities? Had he been cheating?
No. He wouldn’t let himself believe that. He had worked too hard for it to be that way. There had to be some kind of mistake. He wasn’t a wizard; he was a warrior. They would see. He would get to the Mage School, and they would scratch their heads, realize what fools they had been, and send him back. This thought brought him some satisfaction until he thought of his battle with Qenzic, and the power that had rushed through him. Then he wondered who was really being the fool.
The next morning when his mother came to wake him, Justan was sitting on the bed, ready to go. He hadn’t slept at all that night. His mind had been loaded with too many questions.
Darlan smiled. “Ah, you are already up. Good morning, Justan.”
Justan smiled back at her. “Good morning mother. I’ll be in the kitchen in just a minute.”
“Actually, I would like to talk to you for a moment.” Justan motioned to the bed beside him and she sat down. “There is something I need to give you.” She pulled something out of a large pocket in her apron.
“Grandpa’s box! Wait, are you finally going to let me see what’s in it?”
It was a small square box made of dark wood that had been polished until it shined. Justan had been trying to figure out what was in the box since he was a child. He had discovered it when he was six years old, but he hadn’t been able to open it. His mother caught him and took it away. Ever since then, it became a game.
His mother would tell him that he wasn’t old enough for what was inside, and hide it. Then Justan would search the house over for it when she wasn’t looking. Every time Justan found the box, his mother would appear and take it away. She would hide it and Justan would go looking again. There was some trick to opening the box, but he had never discovered it. He had found it a dozen times over the years, but Darlan always caught him before he was able to figure it out.
Darlan smirked at the look on his face. “Oh how it must burn at you, Justan, this little mystery. And here I am again, taunting you with it. Maybe I’ll give it to you, maybe I won’t.” She started to put it back into her pocket. “Maybe I should hold onto it for a while longer. At least it would give you a reason to come home.”
“Mom!”
Darlan laughed and her eyes sparkled. “Your father and I talked about it last night. I have always told you that you needed to wait until you were older, and I suppose that now you are. Besides you might have a use for what’s inside now.” She handed it to him.
Justan looked at it for a moment and twisted it about. “How does it open?”
She chuckled. “It is a puzzle box that my father received on his travels. It’s quite simple, really. Once you know how to do it, that is.” She picked up the box and twisted the lid to the left, then pushed up from the bottom of the box and the lid sprung open.
Darlan held the opened box over Justan’s hand and emptied its contents. Two rings fell into his palm. One was a rather plain silver band with a single line of gold that ran around the edge. The other was a copper color and had an intricate design carved into it.
“These rings are very special,” Darlan said. She pointed to the copper colored ring. “This is your great grandfather’s journey ring. He was a great traveler. He took it with him everywhere. Unfortunately it is all that our family has left from him. When my father was young, your great grandfather disappeared. Months later, a messenger brought father this box. We still don’t know what happened to him.”
“This other ring,” she pointed to the silver one, “a wizard gave to me as a gift a long time ago. It has a protective spell on it. While wearing this ring, it will be much harder for a foe’s blade to pierce your skin. I tried to get your father to wear it, but he never would. He says that it ‘takes the sport’ out of battle.” She frowned. “The fool. Hopefully you will find it more useful.”
She raised one eyebrow. “Perhaps you will lose less fingers that way.”
Justan winced. “You saw that?”
“Through my fingers.” She held her hands over her eyes and peeked out from between them. “If your father had not promised me that those mages would be able to put them back on, I would have marched down there and throttled that boy myself.”
“Thank you, mother.”
He placed his great grandfather’s ring on the forefinger of his left hand. The silver ring would only fit on the small finger of his right hand. He didn’t know what to expect, but he didn’t feel any different when he put it on.<
br />
“This is a priceless gift,” he said.
“You’ve earned it after all those years of trying to steal them from me.”
Darlan had variable a royal breakfast for their family. After they had eaten, teary goodbyes were exchanged. She promised to send letters to Justan whenever a student traveled to the Mage School. He promised to write her back. After he gave his mother one more embrace, he left his childhood home to head out into the adult world.
Faldon accompanied him to the training grounds. He was already heading that direction on council business, or so he said. The true goodbyes had already taken place, so they clasped hands. Faldon left his son with one last piece of advice.
“Justan, there is a saying an old teacher of mine told me. ‘Whenever you are forced off of your chosen path, it’s time to forge a new one.’”
“Sure . . . uh, thanks father.”
“Yeah, I know. He wasn’t very good at coming up with sayings. What I’m trying to say is I know that this is not the direction you would choose, son. But the Mage School is a marvelous place. I am sure that if you make the most of your time there, you can have an experience you will always treasure.”
Justan filed the thought away, but didn’t really pay much heed to it. Faldon was always saying things like that. Justan’s goal was to get those two years over with so that he could come back and enter the Academy.
Jhonate was waiting for him at his room near the barracks. When Justan saw her, he felt a pain well up in his chest. He was leaving his best friend behind, and he might not see her again. A lot of things can take place in two years. Who knew how long she would stay in the Academy?
Jhonate nodded in greeting. Without saying a word, she opened the door to his room. The place was bare, but for a few bundles on the bed. She had evidently packed up his things for him so that he wouldn’t be delayed.
He was a little disappointed. He had looked forward to packing the bags, thinking that it would allow him to spend more time with her. Then he noticed how spotless the room was and realized that she must have spent quite some time cleaning it. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t gotten much sleep that night.
“I, um . . .” He tried to think of something appropriate to say. “Thank you.”
The tension in the room was thick. As Justan nervously lifted up one of the bundles, an apple fell out and rolled across the floor. When he bent over to pick it up, he smacked his head on the side of the closet door. Justan rubbed his head. Jhonate barked out a laugh in spite of herself. Then both of them were laughing. The tension drained from the air as if it had never been there in the first place.
“I have something for you,” Jhonate said with a smile. She reached in the corner and pulled out a familiar package tied with a golden string. “You are ready now.” As she handed it to him, she added, “I think it is ready for you, too.”
As it neared his hands, Justan nodded. He could feel it pulling at him. The Jharro bow, an amazing weapon designed to fit him alone. He untied the golden string and was about to let it drop to the floor, but Jhonate stopped him.
“This is no ordinary string. It is a gift almost as great as that of the bow. This is a dragon hair bow string. It will lend extra strength to every arrow you fire. Do not lose it. They are hard to come by.”
He carefully placed the string in his pocket and grasped the bow. Warmth flooded into his hand. He stared at the precious gift for a moment and looked at his friend.
“Jhonate, you have-” he began. Then he shook his head and started again, “As great as these gifts are, they pale besides the other gifts that you have given me.”
“What gifts?”
“The training, the companionship, forcing me to grow. There are so many.” Justan swallowed at his boldness. “But I haven’t even mentioned the greatest gift.”
“Oh? What is that?”
“The right to use your name,” he replied without hesitation.
She embraced him. “You are wise,” she whispered into his ear. Her voice carried a sultry note that sent a warm shiver down Justan’s back. Then she released him and was all business again.
“Come, it is time for you to meet your traveling companions.” They gathered his things and left his room for the last time.
As they walked towards the city, Justan stopped her. “Wait, you have given me so much over these last six months, and yet I have given you nothing.”
“That is not true, Justan. The time I have spent with you has taught me much.”
Justan wrestled with his hand and pulled the small silver ring off of his finger. “Here, this is a gift that you can remember me by.”
She stared at it without an expression on her face. Suddenly, he felt foolish. Here he was giving her a ring like she was his betrothed or something.
“It once belonged to my mother. It is a ring that means a lot to me. I . . . would be honored if you would accept it.” He didn’t tell her about the ring’s supposed protective powers, worried that she might refuse it.
Jhonate solemnly held out her hand. He placed it on her index finger where it fit perfectly. “A worthy gift. I will treasure it, Justan, son of Faldon the Fierce.”
No more was said as they walked to the Battle Academy main entrance. As they waited for the other travelers to arrive, Justan could not get rid of the deep sadness within himself. He was leaving so much behind. Too soon all were there and it was time to leave. After he had placed his belongings on one of the wagons, he turned to her one last time. A tear ran down his cheek and his voice was thick with emotion.
“Jhonate, I can’t bear the thought that I will never see you again.”
She shook her head. “Worry not, Justan. I know that we will meet again.”
“How can you be so sure?” he pressed.
“I asked the stars,” she replied and pressed a kiss on his cheek. With that she walked away. Justan’s eyes followed her until she stepped out of view.
He hoped that she was right.
Chapter Thirteen
In spring, the stunted and gnarled trees of the Trafalgan Mountains are bursting with colorful birds. It is the time of year for breeding and this day the excitement of these birds filled the air with maddening chatter. Then came the distant clomping of heavy feet. The chatter stopped. The birds held their tongues, for an ogre hunting party was approaching.
The ogres were large, powerful, ugly beasts with flat, sloping foreheads, bulbous noses, and thick jaws accustomed to tearing through flesh and bone. Their torsos were covered in coarse hair. Their massive arms were so long, their knuckles often touched their knees. Ogres are ferocious warriors and much feared among the smaller races. The only thing that kept them from being a major force in the developing world was their lack of intelligence.
They live primitive lives. Sometimes they build crude shelters, but usually they sleep in caves or under the stars. Their weapons are rudimentary, consisting mostly of clubs and the occasional spear. Any clothing that they wear comes from the skins of the animals they hunt.
Fist grunted as he looked back at his fellow hunters. They were grumbling about their lousy luck again. It had been a mediocre hunt. They had killed two goats and one rock boar, but that wasn't enough. They wanted something big, something that would bring them higher status within the tribe.
He growled at the others and motioned for silence, reminding them that the hunt wasn't over until they reached their home territory. They frowned, but quieted. Fist had led them on enough successful hunts in the past that they trusted his instincts. Fist had built quite a reputation among his people with his brute strength and fighting skill, but his intelligence was what made him a leader in the tribe.
He examined the trail as they walked, hoping for a sign that something had crossed it recently. Finally he saw it. A wide grin split his face. He led the other ogres off of the trail and up a rocky incline. At the top of the slope the ground leveled off into a stand of pine trees.
There between the trees stood a m
ountain mammoth.
The beast towered above the ogres, the top of its head half again as tall as any of them. Its back was turned towards them. Luckily, the wind hadn’t carried their scent to it yet. It reached a long hairy trunk into the top of a nearby tree to pull a large bunch of pine needles down to its triangular mouth.
Fist motioned for the other ogres to stay back. A plan to take the beast down formed in his mind. The other ogres charged ahead, ignoring their leader’s signals. They were young and cocky, eager for the honor such a kill would bring.
The Mammoth didn’t notice them until they were upon it.
The three hunters ran in close and beat at its sides with their clubs, hoping to stay out of the rage of its deadly tusks. The mammoth cried out. It was startled, but not badly hurt. The ogre's club attacks weren’t very effective through its thick fur.
Eye of the Moonrat (The Bowl of Souls: Book One) Page 13