The Winds of Crowns and Wolves (10 page)

Instead of attempting to comprehend the
larger nature of the events that had transpired, Neach focused his
energy on the journey and the ultimate destination.

His thoughts wandered to possible aesthetic
qualities of the island he would, hopefully, find himself on, not
too far in the future. Never exposed to the idea of islands or even
anything further north than his own village until just a short
while earlier, Neach could not help but conjure unrealistic
fabrications of what this mysterious world might contain.

As they ascended the face of the mountain,
the temperature once again lowered. It was evident from their
vantage point that snow still remained at its crest. It ran like a
rigid stone spine, down the land, dividing it into two separate
entities that seemed to be doomed to ever interact with one
another. For Neach, making it over this mountain was essential. For
even in his exhaustion, his journey was not yet over.

The final push towards the top of the
mountain saw the sparse brown grass disappear and be consumed by
the snow that was visible from down below. Shivering as he and Rine
continued upward, Neach clenched his teeth and prepared to climb
the final few feet to the peak.

As the two came over the wrinkle of the
stone edifice, what lay before them was a magnificent sight.
Through the passage at the top of the mountain, Neach could see the
land below and an expanse of water.

Fields of purple and gold littered the land
below the mountain in a natural collage of floral benevolence. No
settlements could be seen from this view atop the rocky ridge, but
it seemed that almost as soon as the fields started, they ended.
From what Neach could guess, the shoreline began only about a mile
from the base of the mountain. Equally as rocky and lacking the
sand he expected to see along the water, the beach appeared
daunting in the late afternoon sunlight.

Neach returned to reality and began plotting
his path downward. In front of him was a passageway through the top
of the mountain which he hoped would lead downward as well. In
order to save time, as the sun was fast setting, Neach mounted Rine
and cautiously proceeded forward through the snaking path.

The path down the mountain was sheer, not
winding as it had been coming up. Nevertheless, with reigns in
hand, Neach urged Rine forward slowly, toward the basin of violets
and daffodils below. With an overt sense of apprehension, the boy
and his horse stuttered down the path in a jagged motion. Though
not adroit at the art of equine navigation, Neach had managed to
take the pair this far at the expense of merely a few scrapes and
unwanted heart palpitations. He could taste the salt air on his
tongue as he careened down the face of the mountain toward his
ultimate destination.

Before too much time had passed, the two had
broken into a full sprint as they travelled through the beautiful
flower beds that littered the ground around them with a passionate
mixture of purple and gold hues. The sun was now lower but its heat
still gave Neach life. He smiled and threw his hands off the reigns
as Rine carried him toward the shoreline. In that moment, Neach was
without burden. The weight which had been crushing his every fiber
for the hours and days prior had seemingly evaporated. Unencumbered
by the previous expectation, he felt the wind blow through his
hair, he smelled the newly blossoming flowers as they provided and
aroma to the impending spring season. Bliss would have been too
dull a word to describe the utter euphoria which he was
experiencing.

Minutes passed before Neach was brought to
his senses by a change in the texture of the ground beneath Rine’s
feet. A transition from grass to rock let Neach know that they had
reached the shoreline and the water was not far. With a firm grasp
of the reign and a pull backward, Rine came to a halt about thirty
feet from the water’s edge.

Neach scanned the horizon and saw what
appeared to be a small island only a few hundred feet from shore.
In his eagerness it is quite possible this distance was indeed
underestimated, but his desire and curiosity rendered the factual
determination of distance unnecessary. Neach urged Rine into a
swift trot up the shore as he contemplated his options of how it
was that he would reach the piece of land floating in the
water.

About a half mile from where Neach had
initially reached the shore there laid a small wooden boat. As he
approached the watercraft from afar, Neach couldn’t believe his
luck in finding a vessel to assist him in his journey to the island
in the distance. He dismounted Rine and surveyed the boat for its
provisions. Inside of the boat there was a large paddle, a bench
seat, and nothing more. If he was going to venture to the island,
he would have to do it in a difficult manner and alone.

Thinking on his feet as quickly as he could,
Neach noticed a tree in the center of the field of violets behind
him. At once, he led Rine to the tree and tied him up by his
reigns. So as not to be cruel to the majestic creature, Neach
unpack the food which he had from his knapsack and laid it in front
of him. He hoped that it would be enough to allow him time to reach
the island and return.

With a firm pat on his rear, Neach left Rine
to fend for himself for as long would be necessary. There was a
skip in his step as he returned to the boat and attempted to launch
it from the shoreline. Fortunately, the waters were just calm
enough that Neach could begin movement fairly simply. With a push
backward, the large oar which he now found himself in possession
of, moved the boat forward ever so slightly. It was the first
stroke of many which would be exhibited in order to reach the
elusive island that had seemed to be located so much closer earlier
in the day. But Neach pressed on, determined to reach the island by
sunset. The sun was now burning crimson and orange as it hovered
above the horizon, like a bird searching for fish below the water’s
surface.

He pressed on, hell-bent on forward motion
in the direction of the strangely formed rock located a few hundred
meters from where he was currently floating amongst the waves. A
well-organized stroke of the oar sent the small boat crashing over
the crest of the falling wave which finally moved Neach out of the
fray that was the water nearest to land. Smoothly maneuvering his
way amongst the rocks which speckled the ocean surface, Neach
ambitiously hurled the bow of the boat in the direction of the
island.

It was as if the beach was in the palm of
his hand now as he found a second wind that enabled him to put his
maximum effort into the push toward the destination. His gaze could
be fixated by little, as it was intent upon the strip of sand that
appeared a safe haven to Neach’s weary eyes. The final hundred feet
or so seemed as if it was a mile in a rainstorm, but eventually the
rickety boat made its way onshore.

The sand provided retribution for the
journey which had previously ensued. Neach collapsed on its gritty
surface as the sun began to fall below the horizon. To his left,
the purple and orange of the setting sun appeared as if it were a
cataclysmic explosion on the very rift between sky and land. A
nebula of iridescent flames that threatened to burn the very world
as it was known, the sunset provided a palette of colors that the
finest artist would have salivated to have in their possession.

He closed his eyes and his mind wandered to
the beautiful girl from Leirwold. Her vivid green eyes were looking
into the chasms of his soul as he dreamt of seeing her again. Her
deep black hair looked almost purple as it flowed in the wind
behind her. The two were riding through a field atop Rine, toward
an unknown destination. She was so beautiful that Neach was able to
get lost within her stunning qualities. No natural occurrence could
deviate his thoughts from her beauty.

The tranquility was disrupted as he felt the
tide moving in on the shore. His feet were drenched as the
saltwater crept further up the beach. With a swift turn, Neach
stood up and scanned his surroundings.

Rising from the sand with unabashed fervor
was a collection of trees that were as skinny as they were tall.
Their broad leaves cast a shadow over the ground below, in the
sunset which was overpowering the tiny island at dusk. A path,
rough at best, could be seen snaking through the wooded outcrop and
disappearing behind a drop off.

Off into the impending darkness, Neach
disappeared. What lie beyond the trees was uncertain, but onward he
pressed, hoping for revelation in a time of thinly veiled
secrecy.

The trees hung over the path as if the
forest begged to be adorned by their plentiful foliage. Any light
which had existed nearer the beach had now disappeared. Exotic
animals, which made sounds unlike anything Neach had ever heard
before, crooned deep into the misty forest. Smoke lingered in the
air ahead of Neach as he wandered aimlessly along the path. Its
scent hit his nostrils with a pungent reprieve and at once he knew
what it was: a fire.

At risk of breaking into a trot, Neach
caught himself as he bounded quickly toward the fire he believed he
was closing in on. With a stutter, he stopped in his tracks and
crept slowly toward the crackling flame that was only a few hundred
meters in front of him.

Exotic was a tame term to define what it was
that Neach was seeing on this island. Such flora had never been
seen by the young man, and his eyes gaped as he gazed around his
perimeter. Large mushrooms with red caps speckled the ground as if
they were a fungal rash outspread on the vibrant green land. The
trees which comprised the space around him seemed to ascend for
eternity, only to be halted by the fanning out of their broad
leaves. As a result, a canopy was erected that prevented even the
slightest amount of sunlight from reaching the forest floor. At the
base of these trees, bright pink flowers were in bloom. They
wrapped themselves around the thick part of the trunk as the
innocent bystander would be left to determine if they were
caressing or strangling the massive plant.

The weather had been improving since Neach
left Leirwold. Warmth had overrun the Kingdom of Duncairn and this
island was no exception. Even as the sun set, the air was thick
with humidity. In a short period of time, the Northern part of the
Kingdom had transitioned from the doldrums of winter into the more
optimistic early days of spring.

Bugs flew around Neach’s head with a
sonically pleasing buzzing. It was as if the insects of the forest
had united in a symphony of natural harmony, singing the archaic
songs of time passed as they circumnavigated Neach’s head.

A drop of sweat trickled down from Neach’s
brow as he crouched behind the trunk of the largest tree he could
see. By now, the night had all but suffocated him. All was dark,
bar the dwindling fire which he could see twinkling in the
distance. He attempted to gauge the situation and plan his next
move. If the person who was responsible for this fire was hostile,
he would need to be prepared to fight back.

Swiftly and quietly, Neach removed his bow
from his back. He drew an arrow from the quiver and strung it,
slowly, but surely. With the utmost cautious, he proceeded toward
the fire, still crouched low. Even in this dark expanse, his eyes
seemed to pick out another pair across the space. They glowed an
almost yellow color and they appeared to be staring directly at
him.

Moving through the tall grass that separated
him from the encampment, he rose slowly with his arrow drawn and
began to shout:

“Who are ya? I don’t want any trouble,” he
unleashed with as much vigor as he could muster.

His response was a deep chuckle.

“You there, boy, what is it you’re doing on
this island?” the now evidently older man rebuked.

Neach paused for a few moments before moving
further forward into the opening that had been cleared by the
elderly man.

“I’m looking for someone,” he said as his
feet struck the cleared grass, “someone who is meant to know
something about this book, the Toriik Riamendi.”

The man said nothing, but instead held a
melon in his right hand over the fire.

“If it is really you, the one I believe you
to be, shoot this fruit out of my hand with that bow of yours”, the
old man demanded.

Still about thirty feet away from the man,
Neach was unsure of what he was meant to do. Unfortunately, it
seemed that he would have no choice in the matter. The melon looked
like a small orange circle dangling above the fire. It was as if
someone had taken a rock and held it up next to the vibrant,
burning sun.

With a deep breath, Neach closed his eyes
and envisioned the fruit as larger than it really was. Now the size
of a boulder, it would need to be struck dead on impact if injury
was meant to be avoided. He opened his eyes again and focused all
of his energy on the fruit which was being held firmly in the hand
of the old man. The man’s eyes reflected the flames which appeared
to be licking the whiskers around his mouth. Unkempt and unfazed,
the man’s steely gaze peered deep within Neach and it ignited
another flame deep within Neach’s soul.

A swift pull backward and a release saw the
arrow hurl through the air toward the melon. With a thwack, it
struck the fruit, exploding it into a hundred tiny pieces
immediately upon impact.

Almost directly after the destruction of the
melon was witnessed in that dark forest, a smile erupted on the
face of the old man as he applauded the skill of Neach.

“You’re good, but you have a lot to learn,
son,” the old man said through a distinct smile.

Without explanation, he motioned for Neach
to follow him toward the living area of the encampment. On the far
side of the clearing, a hut was placed precariously on uneven land.
Its rickety structure was evidently constructed poorly, but it also
gave off the appearance that it had withstood years of torment
within this hallowed ground.