Halfstone: A Tale of the Narathlands

by Daniel White

  There was nothing of great interest in their possession, only some gold which he and Télia chose to leave, and their swords. These were uniquely fashioned with long, thin blades and no cross-guards. Télia said they would attract unwanted attention so they left them too. The men’s horses had bolted in the night.

  “They were aera servants of Selayna,” said Télia, getting back to her feet. “Only they would wear her sign.”

  Aldrick found himself more concerned with how these men had tracked them to the inn.

  “If they have been hunting me they might have found my family first!” he exclaimed. “We have to go back and see that they are safe!”

  “No. These aeras would have been well behind the pace of the ka-zchen. They probably only arrived in the south yesterday, seeking to confirm it had already killed you. Even if they had been to Rain they would have avoided unnecessary altercation.”

  Aldrick remained apprehensive but trusted in Télia’s judgement. He still felt she was keeping things from him but was willing to let this go, presuming they were things that mustn’t need urgent utterance.

  They buried the aeras behind the stables and did what they could to conceal the tracks leading to their shallow graves.

  “If this had happened in the heart of the wilderness I would probably have left them where they fell,” said Télia, raising one last patch of trodden grass with her foot. “Here, we must leave no evidence of our passing.”

  Back inside the inn they washed all blood from the floor, then Télia gave Roan generous gold and apologised profusely for what had occurred. The innkeeper was shaken but understanding and agreed not to notify any officials of the incident.

  They departed immediately after eating and continued on their way along the woodland road toward Farguard. The rain had ceased in the early hours of the morning and the air was fresh and cool. Their pace was a trot. Télia didn’t think there would be any more imminent danger.

  “How are you feeling?” Aldrick heard her ask him after about an hour of travel.

  He lifted his eyes from the road.

  “I’m all right. I… it just didn’t feel right,” he murmured. His mind had been swamped in murky, black water—an endless flood of images of that aera lying on the floor with his knife lodged in him, lifeless.

  Télia looked on with a faraway expression.

  “Killing never feels right,” she said sombrely. “Try not to dwell on it, Aldrick. It was them or us.”

  He tried not to but couldn’t help it.

  “Had you killed before?” he asked.

  She shifted uncomfortably in her saddle. “Let us talk no more of this. The day is new, the air is fresh. We may as well enjoy the journey.”

  Aldrick looked at her and wondered what stories about herself she had kept unknown to him. He wondered how such a fair and kind young woman had come to wield the ability to take life. Perhaps one day she would tell him. He hoped they would still know each other in times beyond whatever lay ahead of them now.

  They came into view of Farguard in the early afternoon. The woodland trees had given way to patchwork fields of yellow and brown. Beyond them, a wooden wall which bounded the village loomed. Overshadowing all else though were the mighty Midland Ranges. The procession of twin peaks towered so tall that their tips were obscured in cloud. A narrow valley lay between them that Aldrick assumed made passage to Jon’s home. From it, a small river ran which passed through Farguard and on to the ocean. In the distance, the shoreline veered westward and eventually faded from sight behind a haze of salty sea air.

  A lowered wooden gate offered them entrance into the village. Though there were no guards stationed outside, it somehow felt less welcoming than Rain. A dreary atmosphere hung over the place like heavy mist. The streets were boggy and the state of the housing was less than grand. Years had passed since they had last received caring attention. Many had been abandoned entirely. Wooden boards were nailed across their doors and windows and ivy engulfed their walls. The few dwellers who wandered the streets dressed mainly in long, cotton garments that were muddied at the bottom. There was little colour to be seen anywhere.

  Aldrick and Télia led their horses to some rickety stables, paid to have them well fed and groomed, then made their way to the markets to buy food. They found little variety of choice. After reluctantly purchasing stale bread and some soft fruit from an unseemly woman with oily grey hair, Télia suggested they pay a visit to the local blacksmith.

  “With the enemies we encountered last night we are going to need our own swords,” she said.

  Besides wooden ones, Aldrick had barely even held a sword in his life. It hadn’t been necessary. He was a little hesitant. Télia said she would pay for his. He assumed her work paid generously as her coin pouch was still robust, even after bribing Roan the innkeeper that morning.

  There was just one smith in the village: ‘The Drunken Anvil’. It offered only a small selection of swords, so Télia bought them each a plain steel longsword with a leather-bound hilt. Hers was a woman’s size—a little shorter and thinner than his own, which, with the tip against the ground, reached to his waist and was unnecessarily heavy. Each sword came with a leather sheath and strap which they fastened to their belts. It tired Aldrick just walking with his at his side. This amused Télia, who appeared very able with her own.

  They thanked Torran the smithy before making their way to a small garden area by the riverside to eat lunch. The garden was overcome by a thicket of tangled weeds and the tree at the centre stood grey and leafless. Regardless, it was a fitting place for them to rest and discuss their imminent actions.

  “We must be hasty,” said Télia, biting into a pear. “I want to reach Jon’s before nightfall.”

  Aldrick also anticipated arriving at Jon’s. He hoped they might also meet Braem there and learn from both of them the true reasons why he had been swept away on this whirlwind journey.

  While they ate, he noticed Télia had begun to act strangely. She kept peering around and then pausing, as if she was listening for something. He listened too. He heard nothing out of the ordinary, just the gentle chant of the river and a cow mooing in a field somewhere beyond the village walls.

  Suddenly she grabbed his arm and pointed toward two figures, each accompanied by a horse, walking down the main street from the far end of the village. “Look, Aldrick! It’s a wielder. Maybe it’s Jon!”

  It was indeed Jon… and Braem! Relief swept over Aldrick. They were a welcome sight.

  “Yes, it’s Jon and my father!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

  They made their way to them. Braem noticed Aldrick as they approached and met him half way with an expression of surprise and bewilderment upon his weary face.

  Aldrick embraced him. “Hello, Father.”

  “Aldrick… it is good yet surprising to see you here.”

  Jon came striding toward them, his wild, silvery mane a vivid contrast to the otherwise bleak surroundings.

  “Ah, Aldrick, the man of the hour,” he said brightly. “We were just on our way to visit you, my boy.” He looked to Télia. “And you, aera, I have been expecting you for some time now. It appears, though, that you have found… one more in need than I.” He winked at her. She didn’t reply but offered him a subtle smile. Jon now returned his attention to Aldrick, resting a hand on his shoulder. “My boy, it seems you are caught up in a right mess, oh yes. I’ve heard all about the ka-zchen attack. It is very bothersome and I do fear it means more bother.” He turned to Braem. “Now that we find ourselves together we must discuss matters—have young Aldrick here enlightened to the situation. As he and the aera were undoubtedly on their way to my home, we may as well return there.”

  Although he was lively, Aldrick sensed that Jon was unsettled, on edge, harried by thoughts.

  Braem didn’t respond to Jon. He was looking upon Aldrick with caring eyes. In them, Aldrick saw the same repressed fear that was there the night of the ka-zchen attack.

  “I trust
you have not been followed,” Jon asked Télia after failing to receive a reply from Braem.

  She shook her head. “No, we haven’t. We had some trouble at an inn on the way here but that trouble is gone now.”

  “Brilliant!” Jon cried. “Now, we must be on our way. There are important things to discuss, shocking revelations to be revealed… I’m assuming you haven’t spoilt anything for him?” He shot a gleeful glance at Aldrick.

  “As little as I can. I was saving that for you.” Télia looked at Aldrick and pulled an awkward face. “There are some things I perhaps could have told you which I have not.”

  “I had my suspicions,” Aldrick replied. “I won’t hold any of it against you, Télia.” He had grown tired of wondering now, tired of guessing the answers to the many questions he had. All he wanted was to reach Jon’s and hear whatever there was to be heard.

  “Jon, I won’t return with you,” said Braem. “You have much to discuss with Aldrick. There is little more I can contribute.”

  Jon nodded. “Very good, my friend. Aldrick will be fine with me, and he has this lovely young aera watching over him now.” He gestured to Télia.

  “Good.” Braem surveyed Aldrick. “Jon is to tell you very important things, some of which have been kept from you for far too long. Go with him now and be safe. Return to the farm when you are ready.”

  Aldrick nodded passively.

  They embraced once more, then Braem eyed Télia. “You are protecting him? I trust in you to do so to the best of your ability.”

  “I will, sir,” she said.

  Braem gave Aldrick one final look, patted him on the shoulder then went on his way.

  Aldrick felt only slight sadness watching him go. The point in his life had come where he could go on without relying on the comfort and closeness of his family. A new journey lay ahead of him.

  In short time he and Télia, with Jon leading, had left the drowse of Farguard for the shelter of Jon’s valley home. They rode swiftly, with purpose, along a wild path that followed the riverside deep into the heart of the cloud-cloaked ranges. As they passed more and more stream inlets the river gradually became a stream itself. Eventually it veered from the path to its origin in the mountaintops. Not far beyond this point the trees cleared and they emerged into a surprisingly vast opening claimed by small scrub bushes and tussocks. Here, the path forked. Jon led them left to where his house was situated against the edge of the clearing, behind a small incline that, with the help of a few stranded old trees, kept it from the view of passers-by.

  It was a curious and magnificent dwelling, standing some feet above the ground upon an elevated wooden foundation. A polished landing traced its many walls. Unlike village housing, it had clearly not been constructed following the guidelines of tradesmen. The walls bulged in the centre where vertical planks of wood met each other. Windows were located in various places, high and low, and did not always have four sides. Most were covered by drapes on the inside. The roof had been lined with thin tree trunks that protruded well beyond the walls and was thatched with masses of straw. Aldrick had never seen a home quite like it.

  Jon led them to a small stable to the right of the house where they dismounted their horses and offloaded their gear. Gusts of rain had begun sweeping down the valley, so he promptly showed them indoors whereupon he ran around lighting various lanterns and candles to counter the dwindling daylight. The interior of the house was roomy, made more so by the outward curving of the walls. Immediately left of the doorway was a kitchen area, bordered by a bench that was cluttered by parchment and various indiscernible belongings. Ahead of them was the living room. A large woollen rug covered much of its floor space. On the left was a comfortable-looking seating area with pillows and blankets and in the corner, an open fire. Along the walls, dark red and green drapes hung that were covered in strange patterns and symbols. Above them, accessible by a small stairway, was Jon’s bedroom and study.

  “This is home,” Jon said, proudly walking back down the stairs after igniting one final lantern that hung from the centre of the ceiling.

  “I love it!” exclaimed Télia, looking around in fascination and delight. “It’s so different, and cosy.”

  Jon chuckled. “I’m glad you like it. Do not hesitate to make yourself at home, in whatever way that means for you. I imagine you will be staying a short while.”

  Aldrick wondered how long he meant.

  Jon looked upon him with caring eyes. “Oh, Aldrick, you look so much like…” he paused momentarily, “like I remember you.” He clapped his hands together. “Well now, let us relax, refresh ourselves and afterwards I shall see to supper. When our stomachs are full we will discuss much. Yes, indeed we shall!” He spoke with lofty spirits. This was how Aldrick remembered him—always acting in a manner that offset any seriousness there was. Never had he seen Jon’s face grim. Since their last meeting, he had aged well. No more wrinkles had appeared on his face nor silver hairs upon his head; perhaps because they had always been silver. How very strange it was to be looking upon someone he had known all his life and only now knew was a wielder. Aldrick still saw no obvious clues that Jon was. Save for his mane of hair, he appeared nothing like the images Aldrick had in his mind of how one might—clad in grand robes, brandishing a magical wand. Jon was still the same quirky old man from the mountains.

  After a short rest and cup of tea that was accompanied by idle talk, Jon left to fetch meat and potatoes to roast for dinner. Aldrick and Télia were left sitting in the living room. The fire had been lit and was a hypnotic dance of yellow flames upon the hearth. Although the mood was restful, Aldrick readily anticipated the conversation that approached. He would at last know why he was hunted. Why, after so long living a simple life, he was suddenly fleeing from death, having to take life to preserve his own. He had an uncanny feeling that this fate had always been pursuing him and he yearned to know where it would lead him from here.

  Dinner came late but was plentiful. Jon had cooked more than enough for them all. The mutton and potatoes were roasted to perfection and accompanied by boiled vegetables and thick, nourishing gravy. They ate in silence, subdued by both keen appetites and a squall of thoughts. Outside, the mountainous world was at rest, lulled by the soft sound of the falling clouds.

  When they had finished eating, Aldrick took it upon himself to break the silence.

  “Sooo, here we are…” he started.

  Jon sat back in his seat and made himself comfortable. “Yes, here we are. You have come a long way and I think it is about time you had some burning questions answered.”

  Aldrick waited breathlessly for him to continue.

  Jon stroked his beard thoughtfully for some time. His natural soft smile had faded from his face. “As you are no doubt already aware, Aldrick, a certain wielder named Selayna has decided that she doesn’t want you around. You have already encountered more than one of her servants. They travelled far to find you. You wonder why, yes? Well, first you must know some things about your birth parents… I knew them both well. Their names were Isobel and Gilthred.” Jon looked away. His eyes glinted. “Aldrick, the things I am about to tell you are no ordinary things. I’m sure you won’t find them easily acceptable as truth. However, they are. I have little reason to keep anything from you now.” He took a deep breath. “Your parents were wielders. They were great wielders, some of the very greatest, in fact.”

  Aldrick’s mind ground to a halt. “They… what?”

  Jon lent forward. “Their son was a wielder too. Aldrick, you are a wielder.”

  What again? No, that wasn’t right. He wasn’t a wielder! “No, I’m not a wielder, Jon. You must be confused. I’m just… ordinary… I am!” He looked at Télia for some kind of reassurance, but it appeared that this had not been news to her.

  “I’m quite sure you are, my dear boy!” cried Jon. “As sure as the mountains rise you are. And that’s just the beginning of it!”

  His mouth hung half open. “H… how am I a wielde
r?”

  “How? Well, because your parents were, obviously! Wielders do not bear humans. You are as much a human as you are a rabbit.”

  “How is it that I know nothing of this, then?!”

  “Because you have not been told. Well, at least not until now.”

  This conversation was impossible. Aldrick was only just becoming accustomed to living in a world where wielders existed. Being one himself was a whole different story. Surely he had been grievously misinformed. He shook his head fervently. He was on his feet, tense. “It’s not true!”

  “Aldrick, be calm,” Télia said gently. “I knew this myself, but it was news that needed to come to you from one more understanding and knowledgeable than myself. Jon is very wise. Heed his words.”

  Jon chuckled. “Wise? I don’t consider myself as such. I’m just old, far too old… now where was I?” He pondered. “Ah yes, I know where I was. You are a wielder, my boy, as were your parents! Now your parents, Aldrick, they were very special. When I said that they were some of the greatest wielders, I referred not only to their noble characters but also to their stormpowers. Storm, of course, is the term given to the magic we possess. We are wielders of the storm. Many folk may simply refer to us as wizards or sorcerers, but wielder is the preferred title.

  “Your parents were able to wield their stormpowers in unique and exceptional ways. Your father, Gilthred, could influence the weather—turn the rain to sun and the wind into a weapon.” Jon paused again, seemingly adrift in an ocean of memories. “And your mother, she could do something quite extraordinary. She could drain another wielder’s storm from them. It was an ability feared by many.” He looked upon Aldrick with grave eyes. “Aldrick, you are hunted because you are feared too, because you also have this ability.”

  Aldrick fell back to a seated position. Jon’s words continued to numb his mind. How was any of this true? How had it been kept from him for so long? Since being swept away on this journey he had not even entertained the possibility of such truths being revealed. He had expected more trivial explanations for the attempts on his life. Perhaps they came as revenge for unpaid debts his parents owed to Selayna or something of the like. Never could he have foreseen that it was he who was considered a threat.