The Troven (Kingdom of Denall Book 1) (4 page)

Farin had no interest in writings from scholars, and even less interest in hearing about them from Bendar for the next year.

“I have one question, Bendar. Who is this Emry guy and has he ever left the walls of the university? I've heard you talk about all these wise guys, but I've never heard of them leaving their cozy apartments in the capitol. I'll tell you one thing: I'm not wasting my strength carrying scrolls, books or anything I don't need.”

With this final insult Bendar shook his head and paused. “First off, you asked two questions. Secondly, it is
Emer.
I am sure with some concerted cognitive effort you will be able to pronounce it correctly. And thirdly, I do not think it necessary for you to carry a single transcript, text, manuscript or writing of any kind unless it has bright picture drawings.” Bendar smiled wide with satisfaction at having outwitted Farin. He looked to Kaz and back to Farin for some kind of reaction, but all he received was a dismissive head shake.

Returning from the thorn bush, Kaz broke the silence, “Bendar, was that a joke? We really need to work on timing and delivery, but other than that, you nailed him.” Kaz clapped Bendar on the back and brought him over to a nearby rock where they sat down to make their final preparations for their departure.

* * * * *

Bendar began his return trip to the village with many thoughts on his mind. The walk would only take him a short time, and with the rate the sun was setting, he calculated he would have just enough time to go to his father’s store, gather the perishable items he had left until the last, and hide them outside the village where he would collect them after the Troven ceremony.

While he walked he continued to think over his entire plan. Bendar had everything figured out; the rations each person would collect, minus the amount eaten each day by the average person, times the number of people and number of days. He also took into consideration the approximate amount of meat, fruit, berries and roots they could gather while traveling, the travel time for the average person, and the distance they needed to travel each day to reach Norwell by the end of summer. He knew the best route to avoid unnecessary dangers while making good time.

In his mind there was always a calculation of some kind being made, and in most cases the solutions came very quickly, leaving him satisfied. Bendar felt exactly how he liked to feel: in control.

As he passed down the main street of Dungan, his thoughts were unexpectedly interrupted.

“Hi Bendar, are you okay? You're talking to yourself.”

Although surprised by this intrusion, Bendar answered as politely as he felt protocol demanded. “I did not realize I spoke aloud. Sorry if I bothered you.”

“Not at all, Bendar. I was just worried you might be nervous about tomorrow,” Bendar looked up and saw it was Fenn who addressed him. Unlike most of the youth in Dungan, Fenn was always kind to Bendar, and the tone of her voice was sincere.

“I am not nervous,” he clarified, “I just have a lot that needs to be done. Thank you for your concern.” Thinking the conversation was at a logical conclusion, Bendar continued walking down the street.

Before he could walk far, Fenn called out after him. “Bendar, take care of yourself out there.” Bendar nodded and continued to walk away.

Although this was a nice gesture, he knew she didn't care one way or another about whether he did 'take care of himself.' Nobody in this town truly did. Nobody in the town really knew him at all.

He spent the warm seasons with his father's family in the harbor city of Pike Point where his parents had met. His mother had been born and raised in Dungan and insisted they all live there during the colder months.

Because of his time spent away from the village, his heritage coming from the sea dwellers, and his gift of intellect, he was different than most of the villagers. As such, he questioned many of the traditions of the small village, including the rite of passage into manhood that would send the boys off on their own at the Summer Festival to “find themselves.”

Bendar's father who, like Bendar, was gifted with intellect, found this tradition both antiquated and illogical but also saw the merit in keeping his wife happy, so he consented to the tradition.

When that decision had been made years ago, Bendar had had a realization of his own. He needed to look out for himself. When he had met a professor during his summer holiday in Pike Point a few years ago, he knew a great opportunity had come his way. The young professor had been travelling to take up his new position at Hanger University, far away in the south. During the three days the man had been staying at the inn belonging to Bendar’s uncle, Bendar had taken every opportunity to speak with him, and had eventually gotten the young professor to agree to take him on as a sort of project pen pal. What had begun as an opportunity to have his questions answered and reading material referred to him had turned into a serious offer to come to the university. Although he never said it out loud, as Farin did, Bendar had his own agenda. After the Troven, he would never see this quaint place again.

Chapter 3

“Wow! This bread is wonderful!” Garin announced as he grabbed another slice and dipped it into the runny yolk on his plate. The warm bread let him know that his mother had been up before the sun, stoking the brick oven and baking. She had also collected fresh eggs, and cut thick slices of ham from the storage in the smoke house. On the table there was also a small bowl of fresh strawberries she insisted were only for the twins. She had probably searched for half an hour just to find those few ripe strawberries this early in the season.

“Yeah, thanks Mom,” Farin cut in, unceremoniously spitting out a piece of half chewed ham on the table.

Swatting Farin's hand, his mother scolded, “Don't talk with your mouth full.” She looked down at her hand then, and with a pained look in her eyes, she unexpectedly stood up from the table and walked into their living room where she sat on the sofa, buried her face in her hands, and began to quietly cry.

“What's wrong?” the boys asked in unison. She tried to wave them away, but they dropped what they were eating and rushed to her side.

Their father lovingly joined them in a huddle around their mother and put his hand on her shoulders.

“She's just going to miss you both very much.” He sat down next to his wife and placed his arm around her. He soothingly whispered into her ear. “It's going to be okay. They understand how important it is to find themselves through this tradition. They know how to hunt, fish, plant and harvest.” Then with a slightly raised voice, obviously more for the boys than for his wife, he continued. “They also know the best idea for survival is to either go up into the Northern Forest, build a small log cabin and live off the land, or go to Hillside and work with Baron Omer for the year.”

Looking somewhat surprised, their mother turned on him. “You can't tell them what to do for their Troven! You know that.” She emphasized her words by slapping his arm and pushing it off her shoulder.

Somewhat sheepishly he continued, “I wasn't telling them to do anything, I was just speculating and making some general statements.”

Farin moved around the sofa so he was facing his parents and cut in before their disagreement escalated.

“It's okay Dad, we have a plan. We'll be all right. But, thanks for the advice.”

Garin took his mother’s hand and held it tightly, “We love you, Mom. Thank you for everything. We're going to be fine.”

With this declaration of love from her teenage boy she couldn't keep the tears from flowing. She pulled Garin in for a tight hug with one arm while she motioned with the other for Farin to join with them. For several moments she squeezed them tightly to herself, refusing to let go. As she held them close, she spoke through her sobs, “Just be safe out there. Don't travel at night. Always have your bows ready. Keep to the main roads and…”

At this point her husband cut her off, “Now who's telling them what to do?” He quickly held up his hands in surrender against a deadly glare.

* * * * *

Bendar’s feet hitting the wooden floor was the only sound in the house as he walked down the hall to the dining area at exactly seven thirty, just as he did every morning. His father sat at the table, and his mother stood by the fire preparing the morning meal.

“Good morning,” his mother said with a smile.

“Hello Mother, Father,” he said while he retrieved three wooden bowls and spoons from the cupboard and set them around the table. As he set the table he wondered whether any of the other boys leaving on their Troven today were still doing their daily chores like it was a normal day.

His father had his spectacles on and was reading through a supply list for restocking the general store. He only put his glasses down when his mother began filling the bowls with porridge.

“Any news from the west?” Bendar asked, nodding his head at the paper his father placed on the table. Bendar’s uncle in Pike Point often included some updates with the supply lists he sent, and Bendar was always interested in foreign relations, especially since there was some tension growing between the islands in the Hogden Ocean to the west.

“No new political developments,” his father replied in his usual, level tone. “However, my brother tells me that the sea level this year is a handspan lower than last year. While this is not a major concern in itself, when combined with reports he sent of storms in the desert and the unnaturally long winter in the eastern mountains, I am starting to see some very strange weather patterns.”

Bendar leaned forward on his chair. “Do you think The Changing is happening?” Bendar had an interest in almost all academic pursuits, but he had been especially fond of reading prophesies about the end of the world. As a child, it was the only thing he could read that felt like fiction, and over the years it grew into a mystery that he felt compelled to solve.
How would all the prophecies be fulfilled? Was it through natural causes, or man’s own choices? Where did the ancient prophecies come from? Could they be substantiated?
 

His father shook his head. “Bendar, you will not need to worry about that coming any time soon. According to those scrolls you have read there are so many things that need to happen before The Changing, they could not possibly happen in your lifetime.”

“I know,” Bendar said, somewhat deflated. “I just find it fascinating that so many things from the Hanger University scrolls I’ve been reading are happening. The rising tension in the western islands, Mordyar invading and conquering in the far southern seas, the strange weather patterns -- I just find it interesting. That is all.”

From across the table, Bendar's mother looked up from her bowl at Bendar, then to her husband.

“Bendar,” she began, “You are right. Some unusual things are happening, and you are also right to be cautious when you leave the safety of Dungan. In the village council meeting, William brought up the exact things you are talking about.”

“That is enough, Ellen,” Bendar’s father said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“No, it's not enough.” She said with a hint of agitation reaching her voice. “We need to make him aware. There are dangers out there that are hard to predict. With knowledge, he will be better able to grow from his Troven experience.” She paused a moment, and when her husband did not object she continued. “The bandits are more aggressive than ever. Wild animals have been spotted where they usually don't roam. It is more dangerous than ever for us to send out our children.” Then she looked right at Bendar and in a rare moment of emotion she spoke tenderly. “Please take extra care of yourself and those other boys.”

Nodding his head he promised, “I will.”

Then Bendar's father said, “You do need to exercise caution, but there is no cause for alarm, or worry about the world ending. Before The Changing there must be wars and invasions in every land. Denall is a peaceful country with no enemies. Our king is currently working to negotiate peace among the Hogden Islands, and many wars are coming to an end as we speak. Mordyar hasn’t been heard of in several years, and he is very far away. We are safe for quite some time from having any enemies or anyone wanting to invade Denall. And of course there is the part in all ancient writings about the magical stones gathering.”

Bendar interrupted his father, excited that he was speaking so openly about a topic he usually avoided. “I have always wondered about that part. Do you know what it means?”

“Nobody knows for certain, it says the stones will gather, and that the gathering will shake the earth. Some scholars speculate that it is continents coming together, while others have compiled some legends about magical stones. But there is so little written about it that any emphatic statements can be dismissed as speculation. The important part is that you have nothing to worry about for many generations to come. Right now you need to focus on being safe and finishing your Troven. You may learn something from this experience that will shape the rest of your life, and that is much more important than studying the end of the world.”

* * * * *

“Kaz! Get up out of that bed and come in here!” Gran called from the lower level of the home they shared. Kaz heard the older woman shuffle to the dining room to wait for him. It was the last breakfast he would have with Gran before his Troven, and it was shaping up to be a memorable meal. He slowly climbed down the stairs, gripping tightly to the hand rail. Every few steps he moaned audibly.

“What’s wrong with you?” Gran called up to him.

She was still at the table, until Kaz got to the ground level and turned around to face her. The older woman’s eyes looked like they were going to bulge out of her head when she saw Kaz. His hair was disheveled and he had dark red spots all over his pale face.

“Are you okay? What happened to you?” she asked as she hurried toward him.

Kaz spoke in a croaky voice in response. “I don't know Gran, I just don't feel well.”

She tenderly helped him to a seat. “Is it your stomach? Your head?” she asked reaching up to touch his forehead.

“I think it must have been those vegetables you forced me to eat last night.” Kaz couldn't keep a straight face any longer and he cracked a wide smile.

“You really are such a pain, you know that?” Gran said as she reached up and gave Kaz a playful twist of his ear. “You get to the table or you'll start your Troven with an empty stomach.”

Kaz wiped his face clean as he joined Gran at the table for breakfast. “Do you think when I come back, I can, you know, stay here again?” Kaz asked between bites.

After his parents’ death, Kaz had moved from house to house in town. He had spent the last year living with Gay, who most people in town fondly called Gran. Because she lived on the far outskirts of town and her husband had passed away, the villagers agreed Kaz should live with her to help keep up the home and watch out for her. It was a modest home with a small garden in the back, but because of her age, Gran tried to remain on one level of the house as much as possible. Kaz had helped her to convert part of the first floor into a bedroom, and feeling uncomfortable using her old room, he had made a bedroom for himself in the loft upstairs.

During his time with her, Gran had taught Kaz to sew and knit and promised to not tell the other boys how skilled he was. She said he'd thank her one day when he had warm socks on cold winter nights. Although he did not like feeling as though he was the property of the village to be passed around where there was a need, he did like Gran, and the feeling of being needed and useful and genuinely loved. He really did want to come back to live with her when he finished his time away.

Gran looked to Kaz with a wide grin on her face. “As long as I don't have to put up with more of your silly pranks,” she replied as she took her napkin and wiped off a smudge of red that remained on his face. “I was actually thinking when you return you would be looking to get married, set up your own homestead, and raise children. I thought you could take over this place as long as you took care of me until I go.”

“Come on Gran, don't talk like that,” Kaz replied.

“I'm serious. When you come back, the place is yours and you'll be taking care of me for a change.” She gave Kaz an affectionate wink and looked at him across the top of the teacup she had just raised to her lips. She waited for a moment as he processed that thought, and then briskly began piling his plate with food. “Now let's get eating or we'll be late for your own ceremony.”

Kaz began eating his breakfast quietly as he thought about Gran’s offer. He did want to return here when he was done, but he didn’t know how he felt about settling down in Dungan forever. This was the place where he had grown up after his parents had been killed, but before that, he remembered how his father had always told him to ‘search for his place.’ He had wondered from time to time what that could mean, especially being moved from family to family as he had grown up. Villagers who had known his father told him that it meant for him to find his place in their community – to be useful. Though he knew their words made sense, aside from helping Gran, he didn’t really feel like he actually had a place here in Dungan.

* * * * *

Village Council President Gib stood center stage, with the town council in perfect symmetry on either side of her overlooking the town square. She was dressed in a bright red, full traditional formal gown which stood out in contrast to the yellows and oranges worn by the other council members. Gib looked much like an older, but still strikingly beautiful version of her daughter Fenn. Tall and slim, with dark hair and green eyes, she was much slimmer than the previous council president and had not been in office long enough to have the ceremonial robes tailored. Her ear marks darkened as she made regular audio scans to check that all was in order before she began. In her oversized gown she began the Troven Ceremony.

“Welcome one and all to this momentous occasion.” With that brief introduction she opened the scroll and began to follow the script:

“Two hundred-forty three years ago, a young man named Dungan was eighteen. While young and not yet considered a man he left  Kinstock with his new bride to seek their fortunes in the world. Exactly eleven months and three days from the time they left Kinstock, they arrived at this very spot and determined they would make it their new home. While time has erased their original homestead it has not erased their memory. From his humble beginnings he built a homestead, planted fields of vegetables, fruit trees and grapes. With the pelts he trapped he purchased and raised sheep, cows and horses.  In time others joined him to settle this land and it has grown into a populous town that is proud to have taken his name.” Farin let out an audible sigh and Kaz almost burst out laughing when he saw the death stare Farin’s mother shot at him.