by Mark Dame
The Andor
Book One of The Legends of Tirmar
Mark Dame
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Mark Dame
All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.
Print ISBN: 978-1-946298-20-1
E-book ISBN: 978-1-946298-21-8
First Edition
Version 1.0
For Michael – Never give up!
Every once in a great age, when the world needs him most, a hero is born.
– Ancient Ranjer proverb
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
About the Author
Chapter 1
On an island barely thirty-five leagues across, with a population of a few thousand people, a boat in the water would seem to be a normal sight, even an expected one. For Trygsted, however, that was not the case. In fact, there were almost no boats on the island at all. It’s not that boats were strictly forbidden. There were no official laws against building or using them. But those few who chose to risk the ocean waters tended to be shunned by the rest of the Andor clan, sometimes even being driven from their homes to live out their days in isolated shacks, far away from the rest of the population.
Flynygyn Geirrsen had often wondered why. Beyond the myths and superstitions, anyway.
Everyone knew from childhood the story of how people had come to Trygsted. And while some thought the story was just a myth, made up by their ancestors to explain the origin of life, few publicly questioned it.
According to the stories, life started when Andor the Great brought the first people to Trygsted from Vahul. They had traveled on great wooden boats and when they had arrived, they had used the timbers from the boats to build the first houses. Andor swore he would never leave Trygsted and so the first people followed his lead.
For as long as anyone could remember, the only purpose a boat served was to send the dead back to Vahul. Their faith taught that the Mithar Ocean was the barrier between the living and the dead. Before the souls of the dead could pass through the gates to the afterlife, they would be separated from their bodies, which would then be returned to the sea by the Guardians of Vahul. This was why the water of the ocean was salty: it was filled with the sweat and tears and blood of the deceased. At least, that was the belief.
The common belief was that if a living person tried to cross the ocean to Vahul, he would be turned away and doomed to roam the ocean for eternity, a lost soul. Those who tempted fate by building boats and riding them on the ocean were seen as reckless at best, though some were labeled as heretics and banished.
And since there were no other bodies of water big enough for a boat, the only official boat builders in Trygsted were the undertakers. The families of the recently deceased would choose a boat to take their loved one to Vahul and the undertaker would prepare the body for its journey. Then priests would use special rafts to tow the boat out beyond the surf zone and set it on its way.
Flyn had always wondered where the boats went, which was why he had built his own boat when he was still a boy, in spite of the superstition. He had never gotten up the courage to go very far, but over the years, he had discovered something else: his boat made him free.
Free from the confines of the island. Free from the day-to-day drudgery.
He loved the boat and being on the water. He had even learned to swim, something almost no one else did. If it wasn’t in a glass or in their washtub, most of the Andor clan refused to have anything to do with it.
Even Kelby, Flyn’s best friend for as far back as they both could remember, thought Flyn was out of his mind. And yet, he still climbed aboard every time Flyn went out.
They had been fifteen when Flyn built the boat. Kel had helped some, but mostly because there was nothing else to do. He had never actually intended to get in it. So, when the boat was finished, Flyn had gone out by himself to test it. Kel had refused to join him.
That entire summer, Flyn had hidden the boat from his parents, but the next spring, his father had found it while cleaning up brush from the winter. Flyn had pleaded with him for days not to destroy it and finally his father had relented, but made him promise to never go farther from shore than he could throw a rock.
Geirr had also made his son swear not to talk about the boat to anyone. He said it was because he didn’t want his son to be an outcast for the rest of his life. Flyn and Kel thought he might be more concerned about how people would look at him, rather than his son. Regardless of his father’s reasons, Flyn kept the boat secret, even from his mother—though eventually she found out.
Over the course of that first summer, Kel watched Flyn paddle around in the surf and ride the waves. Eventually, Kel decided he was tired of sitting on the beach while Flyn had all the fun. Although he had been afraid at first, he had mustered up the courage to take a short ride out and back. After that, the pair had used the boat to explore the coast of Trygsted for leagues to the north and south of their home. As they got older, the boys grew bolder and rowed farther out, though never so far that they couldn’t see land.
Today though, much to Kel’s dismay, they had gone out farther than they ever had before. At least four furlongs from shore.
“Come on, Flyn. Let’s go back.” Unlike Flyn, Kel had never learned to swim.
“Relax.” Flyn was lying back, his eyes closed, enjoying the warm spring sun on his skin. “Try to enjoy yourself.”
After the long, cold winter, the sun, the waves, and the salt air were relaxing. He wanted to take a nap. Which he couldn’t do with Kel bugging him about being so far from the shore.
“I’m on a boat in the middle of the ocean. How am I supposed to relax?”
“Why don’t you try to catch some fish or something?”
“Please, Flyn. At least let’s get closer to shore.”
Flyn opened one eye to see how serious Kel was. Sometimes he thought Kel made a fuss just to complain. This didn’t seem to be one of those times. Kel was staring at him, gripping the sides of the boat so tight his knuckles were white.
“Okay, fine.” Flyn sat up and stretched.
The blue water extended to the horizon in every direction except toward the shore to the east. This far out, the water was crystal clear. He could see all the way to the coral reefs that filled the ocean floor below the boat. He had no idea how far below. The clarity of the water made the coral and the colorful fish swimming around it seem closer than they were.
The odd, rocky structures created a magical underwater forest. Red, green, blue, and purple formations, some with plants growing out of them that looked like cabbages, others were like giant fans. All of it swaying back and forth in the gentle current, like grass in a field.
As color
ful as the plants and coral were, the fish were even more amazing. Striped and spotted, every color of the rainbow, some so small he could barely see them hiding in the coral. Some nearly as big as a goat. His favorites were the ones colored so bright that they seemed like they might glow in the dark. Occasionally he would even see a ray slipping through the water like some strange underwater bird.
Sometimes he dreamed about swimming with them. He often wondered what it would be like to float through the water with such ease and grace.
“Flyn!” Kel snapped him out of his daydream.
“All right, we’re going.”
Kel already had one of the paddles in his hands. Flyn picked up the other one and together they started paddling toward the shore. Flyn breathed in the tangy salt air and listened to the gentle slapping of the water against the hull of the boat, the small splashes of the paddles hitting the water. In the distance, seagulls squawked and screeched as they soared through the air, looking for an easy meal.
“You know what we should do, Kel?” Flyn stopped paddling and scanned the coastline.
“Oh, no.” Kel kept paddling. “No. Not another one of your grand ideas. You can count me out.”
“You haven’t even heard the idea yet.”
“I don’t need to. I can tell by your voice. You’ve got some big scheme that’ll get us in trouble.”
“Oh, come on. When do my ideas get us in trouble?”
“What about that time last summer when you talked me into painting Old Man Gaeten’s barn yellow? Or the time you were convinced there was an ogre living in the woods and we had to go catch it? We were lost for six hours.”
“Hey, that was when we were eight. And Old Man Gaeten paid us to paint his barn.”
“Yeah, but he wanted it painted brown, not yellow.”
“I think it looked better in yellow.”
“He didn’t think so. And what about this stupid boat?”
“What are you talking about? We’ve never gotten in trouble with the boat.”
“Just because we’ve been lucky.”
“Come on, at least listen to my idea before you say no.”
From the back of the boat, Flyn couldn’t see Kel’s face, but he was sure he was scowling. Finally, Kel stopped paddling and turned around.
“Okay, what’s your great idea?”
“I think we should take the boat around the whole island.”
Kel just stared at Flyn for a minute, then turned around and started paddling again.
“So that’s a ‘yes’ then?” Flyn said, laughing.
“No. That’s a ‘you’re out of your mind.’”
“It’ll be fun.” Flyn grinned at the back of Kel’s head.
Kel turned around again.
“No, it won’t be fun. It’ll be a nightmare. Sitting in the boat all day, paddling, day after day? No thanks. It’ll take a month.”
“Fifteen days, tops.”
“Fifteen days paddling all day, then. No.”
“Remember last summer when we went on the boat every day for two weeks straight?”
Kel visibly shuddered. “Yeah. I hated it.”
“You did not. You had a great time. Especially when we did the overnight trip down the coast.” They had packed all their gear in a watertight box Flyn had made just for the trip, then paddled several hours down the coast before camping for the night. The next morning, they had packed up and paddled back. Kel talked about it for weeks afterward.
“That was just one night. You’re talking about over two weeks.”
“It’ll be like when we were kids and went on that two-week hunting trip with our dads.”
“No, it’ll be like the worst parts of that and the worst parts about the boat all rolled into one.” Kel went back to paddling. “Besides, we have planting to do.”
“I know, but the early planting will be done in a couple of weeks. We can go then.”
Kel didn't reply.
“Look, we’re nineteen years old. This will be the last summer we get to do it. We’ll be married next year, then there’ll be kids, and work, and responsibilities. It’s our last summer of freedom.”
“Fine,” Kel said, lowering his head. “I’ll think about it.”
“It’ll be great!” Flyn grinned again. He would talk Kel into it. He always did.
It was nearly dinnertime when Flyn walked through the door of his home. The aroma of roasted pork and fresh-baked bread filled the front room that served as a combination kitchen and sitting room of the small house. Steam rose from the pots on the cast-iron stove. Even with all the window shutters open, Flyn started sweating from the heat of the stove as soon as he entered the house.
Helene, his mother, looked up from the kitchen table where she was slicing the bread.
“Hi, Mom.” Flyn smiled at her, hoping she wouldn’t notice his salt-starched hair and clothes.
“You’ve been out on that boat again,” she said and went back to slicing. He never could sneak anything past her. “Dinner’s almost ready. Go wash up.”
Flyn hung his head and walked down the hall to the washroom without responding. Even at nineteen, he still felt guilty when she scolded him.
She had never accepted his interest in the water like his father had and she made sure he knew it. He suspected part of her anxiety was because she was afraid of being shunned by the rest of the clan, though he was sure she was mostly worried for his safety. Flyn had tried to convince his mother several times that he was perfectly safe, especially because he could swim. The last time had resulted in a huge argument that led to them not speaking to each other for days. His father had eventually forced them to agree to a truce of sorts. So now Flyn didn’t talk to her about it and she didn’t yell at him anymore. Although she still made an occasional scolding remark.
Flyn cranked the handle on the water pump, filling the wash basin. One of his father’s designs, the pump brought water from the well directly into the washroom. Not having to haul water in from outside was especially nice in the cold winter months. He had made a second pump for the kitchen to supply water for cooking and cleaning.
Geirr had installed similar setups in all of their neighbors’ homes in exchange for various goods and services. They mostly offered meat and fruits, or clothing. Occasionally he would receive farming equipment. A couple of years ago, one neighbor had given him a dairy cow. He was even talking about starting a side business after this year’s harvest.
Flyn was excited for his father, though he held no interest in participating in Geirr’s hobbies himself. That was more his brother’s thing. Tyryse was almost nine years younger than Flyn and spent most of his free time tinkering in the barn with their father. Sometimes Flyn wondered if his father like Ty better because of it. Geirr never said anything about it, but the two spent a lot of time together.
Flyn tried to not be envious of Ty’s relationship with their father. He knew it was really just a matter of their common interest and that he would be just as close to his father if he liked inventing and building gadgets. Still, sometimes he felt the pangs of jealousy. The pair even seemed to have their own secret language they used when talking about the projects they worked on together.
Most of the time, Flyn was too busy exploring the countryside or paddling up and down the coast in his boat to be concerned about it. He was actually closer to Kel than his own brother. He and Kel had been best friends since well before Ty was born. And while Kel wasn’t quite as adventurous as Flyn, he did enjoy a nice hike through the woods, or in the hill country in the center of the island.
If he could just teach Kel to swim, maybe he would enjoy the boat trips too.
Flyn stripped off his clothes and washed off the salt and grime. The cold well water was refreshing after a day on the ocean. A luxury he supposed he wouldn’t have when he and Kel took their trip around the island. He put a wet rag over his face and held it there to ease the stinging from the sunburn.
“When you’re finished, go tell your father and
brother dinner is ready. They’re working in the barn.”
“Okay, Mom.”
Even on a day off, his father was always working on something. After washing up and putting on clean clothes, Flyn walked out to the barn to see what today’s project was.
“Hey, Flyn!” Ty waved at him as he walked into the barn. “Guess what we did today.”
“Swept out the hayloft?”
“No! We made a mechanical milker for Cow!” Ty had named the cow when he was eight. The rest of the family hadn’t thought the cow needed a name, so Ty’s name stuck.
“We tried to make a mechanical milker,” Geirr corrected.
“But it almost worked. It just needs some tweaking.”
“We’ll try again next week.”
“Can we try tomorrow?” Ty was practically bouncing in place.
“Sorry, we have to get back to planting tomorrow.” Geirr grinned at his younger son’s excitement.
“Awww.” Ty dropped his head, the smile fading from his face.
“We’ll finish it next weekend, I promise.” Geirr turned to his older son. “Did your mother send you to get us for dinner?”
Flyn nodded.
“But can’t we work on it a little more now?” Ty pleaded.
Geirr laughed. “Maybe we can do a little more after dinner. Now head inside and get cleaned up.”
“Okay!” Ty ran toward the house, yelling for their mother the whole way. “Mom! Guess what Dad and I did!”
Geirr smiled as he watched the boy run as fast as his legs could carry him. Flyn wondered if his father ever looked at him that way.
“Help me put away my tools?” Geirr asked Flyn after Ty had disappeared down the hill.