The Legacy of Lanico: Reclaiming Odana

by E Cantu Alegre

  Lanico sat straight, looking at Marin eye-to-eye. He was serious, more serious than Marin could ever remember.

  The tavern stew that Marin had eaten suddenly threatened to resurface. Pushing his queasiness aside, the boy broke the intensity and looked down at the mat. A section of long curling black hair had managed to escape the tie at the nape of his neck, and he tucked it behind his ear. The subtle move reminded Lanico of her—of Treva.

  He blinked that image away. “Please know, Marin, you have been mine. I feel that I know your soul and the longing that pulls at you—I understand how you feel. Please know that I cannot bear to separate myself from you. That’s why it’s so important that you busy yourself with other things and not venture out from our boundary”—he paused and thought for a moment. His mind quickly danced around ideas. He knew he was asking in vain but figured he might as well try.

  “Why don’t you join the hunting team? Fenner’s grandson Freck would probably welcome you on. And, you’d learn how to use a bow and arrow.” He smiled weakly. “O—or, perhaps take solace having a small garden to sell turnips and carrots like Joso Stoutlet? He seems content.” He paused.

  “-Or, what about a girl? Marin, you’re a good-looking young WynSprign—why not try to be friendly with a nice girl, perhaps—uh—Maybell?” Lanico raised his eyebrows, hopeful.

  But, silence greeted him.

  He could tell instantly by Marin’s uninterested expression that none of these suggestions had been enticing. Lanico caved. “Look, all I ask is that you stop this adventuring and grow some roots before you land in real trouble.” He studied Marin’s face.

  Marin sighed, feeling defeated. “Lanico”—he paused in search of his words— “What you ask of me tears at my very heart, at my spirit . . . to keep me from adventuring is like . . . like taking my wings away. I cannot stay here, I cannot become like the others, pretending to be content living this boring life amid the mist, feeling trapped without any dreams. I feel a pull, a longing, a need to leave. Something out there is calling for me and I can no longer ignore it.”

  Lanico understood very well; he shared this same longing and felt its calling at all times. He, however, chose to deny it. Marin, like Lanico, was of a long line of warriors for Odana. Marin’s mother was a Knighted Odana Second Lieutenant, his father a Lieutenant General. Adventuring ran through Marin’s veins. He didn’t have to be told of his heritage—he felt it.

  However, Lanico reminded himself, Longing or not, Marin mustn’t put us all at risk.

  “Marin, there is great danger outside the Great Mist realm . . . There are some who want to profit from our misery.” Lanico put this lightly, of course understanding his people in Odana, were likely in misery under the Mysra occupation. “Please know that if we are found, we will all be in grave danger . . . danger beyond your own understanding.” As protector, he never intended Marin to know the full truth – a truth that he himself, still wasn’t fully aware of.

  Marin remembered Trayvor and the hooded man. He considered telling Lanico about them, but if he did, Lanico would only be upset at his snooping about in the trees again. Perhaps once more he’d venture out to Horse’s Clearing—just to hear the conversation. It would be a shame to sit idly by while secret plans were made - plans that might be ill intentioned. He heard the mysterious man mention enslaved WynSprigns. The very thought of this stirred a fire in Marin. He looked up steadily at Lanico and then stood. Without a word, he walked toward the hall. He wasn’t going to give an answer to Lanico yet. Silence was the only answer he could give, for now. Lanico gave a slow blink and nodded at him, in understanding. The conversation was indeed over, for now.

  ✽✽✽

  At his sleeping den, Marin opened his curtain divider and closed it well behind him, mindful of his candle. He took off his boots and tunic quietly, fighting back the silent sobs that had erupted from deep inside. His tooth necklace bounced on his bare chest over his quiet heaves. Warm tears trailed down his face. He gathered his bedding in a feeble attempt to make it more comfortable and lay down sprawled out. He held the tooth on his necklace in his hand as he always did in times of great sadness. He liked the way the pointy end felt when he pressed his thumb into it. He stared into the dancing candle flame for a long while before blowing it out.

  ✽✽✽

  Still in the sitting room in silence, Lanico was unable to write about the day’s events. He despised the talk he had just given to Marin, but he knew his point was made. He knew the youth understood the severity of the circumstances. Nevertheless, he remained unsettled. Lanico had been denying himself, all these long years, the freedom to ponder the past. Freedom to answer the call to his own spirit. Like Marin, he also felt the pleading for him to return to his home, Odana.

  As he did with many other things in life, he shoved the yearning – the thoughts of the past to the back of his mind, in an effort to have forward movement, normalcy.

  Lanico had long known about the detained WynSprigns. He was supposed to be their leader since King Oetam had died. He grappled with the thought that he had abandoned them at their greatest time of need. When he and the others fled the Odana after the seizure, they lost much.

  Lanico conceded he wasn’t capable of being a leader—he wasn’t fit for it. His mind was not willing or able to take on this great responsibility. Now, all these years later, and in this quiet, this responsibility was starting to weigh on him. Visions of the suffering raked through his mind increasingly as of late, and Marin’s desire to leave only enhanced his own pull to the beloved Odana.

  Chapter Five

  Traders

  Before the mist-veiled sun rose, Marin sat up in his bed. Though his small room had no windows, he could sense it was still dark outside. Good. He felt he had slept only a few hours. In the dark of his den, his eyes glowed soft purple. He carefully and quietly pulled on his tunic, which had grown tight around his shoulders—it wasn’t the best to climb in, either. He wasn’t quite fully grown yet, and he’d need new clothes soon. Lanico’s clothes would still be a bit large, so for now the tunic would have to do. He carried his boots, opened his doorway curtain, and inched out past the sitting room. Lanico had once again fallen asleep leaning back in the tall chair, a curled-up scroll on his lap. Marin looked at him affectionately but warily before continuing down the hall.

  He made his way quietly to the pantry and grabbed two carrots and a roll from the table. These will do for now. He shoved these into Lanico’s satchel and slipped over to the entrance. Okay, now the tricky part, he thought. He slowly and quietly lifted the bolt and pulled open the door, which tried to make a creak but gave only a low groan at Marin’s slow touch. He quickly put himself on the other side of the door to slip through and just as slowly, closed it.

  The world was still dark and sleeping. His eyes glowed dimly as he glanced around. He then leaned over and pulled on his weathered boots. Getting to Horse’s Clearing was not challenging—there were many trees to leap up and climb into, and they all seemed connected. Their branches were always so close—as if they wanted to touch one another. The tall, ancient interconnected trees were his familiar friends throughout the Great Mist. He leapt into the branches and after some time spent climbing and swaying among the boughs, he got his reward. He could see the clearing ahead as the trees began to thin out in the distance. This bit of travel was not new to him—he had been adventuring quite a bit. Every step placed on a branch and every swing around a tree’s trunk had been a well-coordinated dance that only he knew the moves to.

  As he approached the open space, Marin’s spirit lifted and a heaviness in him diminished. There was nothing quite like the open sky and the yellow glowing sun to warm one’s cool skin. The fire-blazing orange glow of the dawning sun peeking through the trees, and the bright hues of pink, orange, and yellow chasing away the misty fog in the clearing beyond. It was marvelous. The sun brightened the huge expanse of golden grass just over the tree line. The grasslands that led to . . . mysterious places. />
  How could anyone want to keep themselves from this magnificence? He sat on a thick sturdy branch, staring to that other world beyond. Then his eyes roamed to the forest floor far below and noticed large cages. That’s odd. At the sudden grumble from beneath his tunic, he realized he was hungry. The cages were now a fleeting thought. He opened Lanico’s small satchel and decided to eat the roll—the quieter choice of his hastily chosen options. After all, he didn’t want to give away his surreptitious position. It would be too far costly.

  The breeze stirred the leaves gently and Marin heard distant movement, approaching—heavy footsteps on dead crunchy leaves and breaking twigs. “Ah, yes. There is Travyor,” Marin murmured under his breath. Trayvor’s blue cape swung, appearing purple in the rising sun as he emerged from the forest. At almost at the same time, from along the tree line, the hooded man from the day before appeared. He seemed thin under that cloak, with bony shoulders. Marin still could not view his downcast face.

  The two came closer to one another and resumed their conversation. Marin desperately wanted to hear what they were saying about the Odana Kingdom, but at this height, he wouldn’t be able to. Lanico had taught him the history of the Odana but the accounts had seemed quite ancient—now it seemed different, and Trayvor wanted to keep it secret. If Marin was to learn about the bad doings he suspected, and tell his guardian, he’d have to have a clear understanding of what exactly was being said.

  He started to move slowly, carefully climbing a little lower, to a hanging branch of the neighboring tree. He did not want to descend too low and be discovered, so his movements were slow, calculated. Then, another figure approached from the expanse of Horse’s Clearing, large, gray, and looming, and on a horse! Marin felt the hair behind his neck rise, and he avoided letting out a gasp. The gray figure, Marin knew from Lanico’s written descriptions, was a Mysra—there was no mistaking it. Lanico had warned him of the Mysra giants, enemies of the WynSprigns, but without much detail. This one was really quite massive, the description unable to capture the reality of his size. His biceps alone were the size of Marin’s head. Marin had never actually seen a horse before, either, but knew about them from Lanico’s writings and drawings. Lanico had been accurate—perhaps he had actually seen these things himself! Marin’s mind raced.

  Trayvor called over to the massive figure, gesturing for him to come closer: “Gish! Is that you, boy? Please come in closer.”

  Marin’s eyes widened. Trayvor is familiar with this Mysra?! The branch beneath his footing groaned slightly.

  The Mysra dismounted from his tan horse that almost blended into the surrounding grasses. His booming voice sounded his response: “I have been waiting in the grasses for you.” He jerked his head back toward the clearing.

  “Did you have to wait long?” Trayvor asked pleasantly.

  “No, only just all last night!” The Mysra’s voice was gruff, rumbling seemingly octaves lower than any voice Marin had ever heard. And irritated. He sounded most irritated.

  “I hadn’t quite expected you, yet.” Trayvor added.

  Marin sat amazed, and blood began to heat in his veins. He’d have quite a lot to report to Lanico—proof that Trayvor himself was talking to the Mysra! Just wait until I get home. Lanico, Stoutwyn, and Fenner will be raging at this. Thoughts swirled in his head—Trayvor wanted very badly to catch Marin and banish him. And to think, now he’s the one actually putting us all in danger, talking to a Mysra—and so close to the Great Mist! His hands squeezed the branch.

  His thoughts went to Lanico and his response to anger, and Marin drew a deep, calming breath. He had to remain focused—he must avoid being seen or heard. He loosened his grip a little. The voices were a little clearer now. He leaned ever so slowly and carefully to hear more. He was intensely focused when suddenly—

  Crack!

  The branch snapped under him. He plummeted. Hurling down, whizzing past dozens of other high branches - some whipped past his head, others thrashed-beat against his limbs as he tumbled.

  His small beaten body landed with a thud. Marin’s arms and legs jolting up with the force of the impact that quaked before the surprised men’s feet. He lay motionless, his hair spread out like a wavy black river over the ground. He weakly opened his eyes and looked up, only to meet the surprised gaze of Fenner under the darkened gray hood. Marin took a sharp breath in to speak, or to scream, but instead he blacked out.

  “Well now, it seems our little plan worked better than I thought,” said Trayvor with a prideful smile. He sent a look to Fenner, who stood surprised and motionless over the boy. “Banishment will now ensue.”

  Trayvor had found good fortune. He had kept a daily patrol in this area to check on Prondolin business that might arrive from a lone merchant, or clandestine Mysra business – like the present. The Prondolin merchant, however, who only appeared at irregular intervals of time with his wares, understood well that his own Prondolin home would never accept the displaced WynSprigns. For the merchant himself, in all his wanderings, was also considered an outsider and out of their favor. He chose to keep the WynSprign’s business and the unusual location to himself.

  “Luckily,” Trayvlor resumed, “we have already summoned Gish here from Odana.” He paused considering, “Well, damn! You can take the boy back now—we don’t have to wait. We just caught him in the act.” Trayvor laughed heartily and looked over at Fenner again—who looked worried. Trayvor stiffened at the perceived weakness and pointed at him. “You’re my witness to this banishment, Fenner Bricklebury!” It was a command for the former Odana Military Chief from the former Advisor to the King.

  Trayvor then turned to the Mysra. “Gish! Tell your father that we have our first trade installment.” He looked to Marin and then back to the Mysra. “Things will now change in our secret realm, and your father can expect more misbehaving WynSprigns for his trillium endeavors, following this one”—he gestured to the cages behind them, only just visible in the undergrowth— “Those can be used for caging a few at a time and can be taken back on your wagons on a planned schedule.”

  Also, under the cloak of secrecy, Trayvor commissioned the Stoutlet clan to construct the wooden cages presently stored beyond the clearing. He lied, telling the crafters their intent was for animal trappings. Only he and Fenner knew the cages true purpose. In this serendipitous moment, Trayvor felt himself very forward thinking indeed.

  Gish lowered his gaze to the small, motionless WynSprign at his feet. “I didn’t plan to bring anyone back with me.”

  “Gish, this would be a small tolken of what more could come. I’m certain your father would approve.”

  Gish, pushing back annoyance for having to bear the unexpected burdon of the WynSprign remembered his task. He lacked the social tact required for dealing with the troublesome Trayvor. The Mysra didn’t attempt niceties, rather they took or demanded what they wanted, but Gish tried, “Are there many more misbehaving WynSprigns? For our business efforts, we need more transparency from you. My father demands to know. Where are they—in your secret realm?”

  “Tsk, tsk!” said Trayvor with a smile that tempted Gish’s large fists. “No. I know what your father wants Gish. I will not show you to the WynSprign village, nor will I tell you the location. It is to remain secret. I will, however, expect a reward from your father for this first, installment”—he pointed to Marin— “and for the others to follow. We’ll share in a civilized trade deal—your father’s kingdom . . . and us.”

  With all the tracks likely beyond the woods behind Horse’s Clearing, the village should not be difficult to locate, Gish knew, but he wouldn’t mention that, taking advantage of Trayvor’s obvious dimness. Instead, he shifted his gaze to assess the surroundings. The distant snapped twigs and trodden grasses were an easy giveaway, to even a newly trained tracker.

  To cover his new knowledge, Gish gave a sour face and tossed the reward to Trayvor. The small bag of coins jiggled as it landed heavily in Trayvor’s hand. Gish bent down to heft the uncon
scious boy over his massive shoulder, walked with ease to his waiting horse, and draped the boy behind the saddle. Once Marin was tied and secured, Gish mounted the sturdy horse. He then turned to glance at the two WynSprign elders’ faces before he galloped away.

  Fenner looked on, noting that they rode off in the direction of the Yellow Vast brook, a small channel that diminished over the many miles from its main source, the Odana River.

  ✽✽✽

  Marin’s head throbbed, slamming up and down against the rump of a galloping horse. His eyes peeled open to the burning bright white sun. He’d never felt it so close. He blinked, trying to regain sight through the bright, through the sting of it, and tried to move, but his wrists and ankles were bound. He realized he had been rolled and tied into a faded red blanket, like a netted sausage.

  In front of him on the horse, was the massive Mysra he had seen earlier. His immense back was a solid, impenetrable wall facing him. Next to him were tied saddlebags, and Lanico’s satchel, all bouncing in unison at the horse’s strides. Adrenaline pumped. Panicked, he started to wiggle, hastily trying to untie his itching wrists with numbed fingertips. He wanted to first free his hands. Then, while scrabbling, pulling at the rope, his elbow jabbed the Mysra’s back and he slid. Falling again. His body slammed to the ground racing beneath them.

  ✽✽✽

  Slowly. Painfully. Marin started to move his limbs. He felt the grumpiness of sore, tugging at every muscle. His eyes opened barely, to make out a boulder face before him, glowing orange from a fire behind him heating his back. Becoming more alert, Marin sorted out that his head throbbed and his body ached, but the earth was still. He was lying on the ground and could hear crackling wood of the fire. A delicious aroma danced in the air, something roasting. His thoughts came back to the pain that radiated everywhere. He had fallen hard, twice now. At least he thought it was twice. The Mysra must be sitting nearby. Marin felt his rope bonds, again, with subtle movements despite his racing mind, and knew that his odds of escaping now were low. His heart beat hard.