CHAPTER ONE
Kaing awoke as he felt the bottom of the canoe brush on some protruding surface in the shallow waters. He lifted his head slowly as he opened his eyes. All around him were the largest trees he had ever seen. He was surprised to see the ground all around the trees had been paved out of nicely fit stones. Mosses and grasses grew in between the wide cracks. Stone houses and bridges were built around the trees and in the treetops all around him.
As he looked, he saw that spiraling staircases led upward into the center of the trees. He was amazed, for the trees were still living. Elaborate rope bridges connected houses built high in the trees. The craftsmanship was like no other he had ever seen. Carved figures and shapes in wooden archways and curved ceilings guarded the paths of any crossing of tree or river.
There were Maunths everywhere. Many carried baskets and other things. They stopped and looked to see him and the other three Maunths as they passed through a narrow canal that cut through the city, barely wider than the canoe. Branches curved off from the canal and he could see many other canoes passing by in a parallel canal in the opposite direction.
All around, Kaing could see stained-glass lanterns of the most fine craftsmanship. Every one was decorated with some scene of figures. The glass of all of the lanterns was similar; greens and browns and grays were used expertly. All around upon the beautiful stone and wooden archways green illuminations could be seen. He marveled at the beauty of the construction. He looked about in awe as Maunth children curiously ran and looked down on him from an arched stone bridge. He looked up at them as they peered down at him through the stone railings.
They continued through the city that was becoming denser. More and more of the beautiful stone buildings stood all around. He looked up at the balconies growing from the very trees and he marveled. Lanterns had been woven into thickly-braided vines and they hung from the thickly-woven branch ceiling from above. The Maunths of the city passed by the lanterns hanging just above their heads, lighting their way on the richly decorated pathstones.
The maunths with Kaing turned their canoe into a side canal and left the narrow straightaway that they had followed for so long. Kaing looked around at the hundreds of dim lights and the people walking all around the city. He watched as the Maunth in front of him directed their canoe toward a stone landing. Stone steps had been carved all the way to the water’s edge and continued as they sank beneath the water. The Maunths expertly moved their canoe against the stones and began to tie the canoe to a beautifully carved wooden post.
“Follow me.”
Kaing looked up suddenly as he heard one of the Maunths speak for the first time. Kaing stood and stepped out of canoe onto one of the steps still partially submerged in water. He walked up the stairs and followed the Maunth. They walked on pathways and crossed bridges above more of the canals. Kaing tried not to look around him as he followed the Maunth. They came to a stone building held with enormous stone pillars.
There were several other Maunths standing there in front of the dark entrance. Kaing looked at them and an older Maunth slowly turned and Kaing’s eyes caught his for a moment. Kaing slowed his walk and the Maunth he had followed strode to the old Maunth and they exchanged words. After a moment, the old Maunth walked toward him.
“You must be the grandson of Thorn. We knew him well.”
Kaing looked at the old Maunth, amazed, and he spoke carefully. “My grandfather knew you?”
The Maunth smiled and shook his head. “Your grandfather may have known of us, but we knew him well.”
The old Maunth paused for a moment, as he called over his shoulder in the ancient language. It was so fluent and crisp, Kaing had a hard time picking out the words. Kaing saw two armored Maunths come from the entrance of the large building. They were enormous in comparison to the other Maunths around them. Kaing was amazed to find them slightly taller than himself. Their armor was as richly decorated as their city. Matching metal face plates covered their mouths.
The old Maunth turned back to him. “We can only give you sanctuary for so long. When the Dark King finds that we have you, you will have to leave us.” Kaing looked at him questioningly but the old Maunth stepped back and bowed his head. “These will be your two escorts. They will take you everywhere you need to go.”
The first of the enormous Maunths stepped toward Kaing and put his palm outward to Kaing, and Kaing lifted his own hand and put his palm against that of the large Maunth.
“My name is Darkweed.”
Kaing lowered his hand and the second stepped forward and did the same as the first. “I am Iron.”
Kaing had never heard any two voices be so equally deep. “I am Kaing, son of Kaidus, of the House of Thorn.”
They both nodded slightly as if they already knew and Kaing looked from them to the older Maunth. “They will show you where you are to stay,” said the old Maunth.
Kaing bowed his head slightly in gratitude and the Maunth called Darkweed motioned for Kaing to follow with his enormous hand. “This way,” he said with his deep voice.
Kaing walked just beside the large Maunth and Iron walked just on his side. From behind them, Kaing could see that their armor matched almost perfectly. The only difference in their uniforms was their face masks. A different design had been crafted into the metal. As Kaing glanced at them, he could see the outline of a pretty weed crafted into the metal upon the face guard. Kaing wondered at it but said nothing. He wondered if all of these warriors had similar metal workings which somehow signified their name upon their face masks.
He followed the two and every now and again he would catch sight of others of the larger-sized Maunths. They stood in the shadows and Kaing only glanced at them for a moment as he passed by. They walked around spiral staircases and across elaborate bridges as they moved higher and higher into the trees. When they finally stopped, the two stood on opposite sides of a doorway formed into the side of a tree. The tree was very wide and he could see a bed that fit just inside the small room. Kaing stood looking into the room for a moment before looking at his two escorts, which stood on either side of the doorway.
“This will be where you stay.”
Kaing nodded but paused for a moment. “Why are your people helping me?”
Darkweed looked across at him. “It is not for us to say.”
Kaing nodded his head a moment. “How many of your kind are there, the larger ones such as yourselves? For I saw others as we came.”
Darkweed blinked once. “Fifty.”
Kaing looked at him, surprised. “Only fifty. Why no more?”
“We only need fifty,” said Iron truthfully.
Kaing nodded and suddenly thought of all of the Maunths that he had seen in the city. He wondered how such a prosperous city could have ever existed so close to the Dark King’s castle without being found.
“How many of the smaller Maunths are there? Not the tall ones as you, but the smaller ones that brought me.”
Darkweed didn’t even move as he spoke. “Hundreds of thousands.”
Kaing was taken aback for a moment. “Your people have their own army?”
They nodded once and said nothing.
“Why do you not oppose the Dark King?”
“We oppose the Dark King in our own way. It is not the duty of our people to fight him openly, or we would do so.”
Kaing looked at Darkweed and he was openly curious. “How do you oppose him?”
Darkweed took an enormous breath as he looked at Kaing. “Again, it is not for us to say.”
Kaing nodded at them in subtle frustration. He felt slightly annoyed at the warrior’s inability to speak with him, but he was certain that they were commanded to do so. “Will I ever be able to speak with your leader again?”
Iron nodded this time. “He is certain that he will speak with you often.”
Kaing nodded. “What is his name?”
“He will introduce himself when the time comes,” said Darkweed, as if explaining a custom of his people.
Kaing nodded. “My gratitude for all that your people have done for me.”
They bowed to him lightly and Kaing walked through the middle of them to enter into the small room.
A man named Patch looked down into the Underworld Valley. He was one of the workers of the Underworld army that supplied the food for the enormous army. There had been a large group of soldiers designated specifically for camp set-up and tents and animals and food. In Patch’s mind, he saw them as the maintenance division for the entire army. They were the group that was left behind in the camps when the battle started. They were instructed to bring down stores of food at night, and many had done so for the first several nights.
After the crew had watched as the army began to lose, Patch decided not to rush to fight with the rest of the army at the base of the peak. He had thought, pondering for several moments. He decided that they would try to break away to the northern boundaries of the Underworld Valley.
For years, Patch had worked with the northern traders of the deserts, the giants. He had never had direct contact with them, but he felt that if he could contact them, then they would take them under their protection. The crew had already moved northward and east. They were nearing the lower mountains just below the Troll’s Wall when they had seen the Elves thunder down into the valley. The entire crew had just watched in silence as the Elves had joined their comrades at the peak. And moments later, they had watched as the Elves rescued and led away hundreds to the mountain passes above the Falls of Tosagn to cross between the mountains of El Balizere.
Patch was glad to see many of them get away. He suddenly hoped that he would be able to find them one day, but for now, he would do his best to get his crew to the north. He believed it was too late to follow the Elf army. Patch admitted that he wasn’t a military leader of even a captain, but he was chief over the crew and he thought he had decided best by having them go to the northlands.
The only contacts that he had on the outside were the traders of the northlands. He knew no other people, as many of the generals did. He had nowhere else to turn for support. His goal was to find the northern traders of the rich desert spices, the traders that were giants. So the crew followed their chief and they headed north.
In a short space of time, they discovered their course was a much harder route. Once they discovered the difficulty of the path, Patch was confident that it would be one where they were not sought, especially once they got out of the valley. Patch was very open with all of the people in his crew and he opened his ideas to all of them, asking for their opinions or any ideas they might have. They supported him, for they had no knowledge of any contacts in this outside world. They were just the workers.
Patch suddenly wished he had been allowed to have more experience on the outside as he was forced to lead nearly forty souls. He felt a great weight on him for he knew all of them very well. The responsibility of their lives was solely upon his shoulders, and he did his best to let them all know that he would need all of the help he could get, while not appearing incompetent at the same time. He took the reins of leadership because he had to, and he acted the part as he made decisions for all of them.
All of the members of his crew had a horse, and they had several more packed with food to last them a long journey. He had thought about traveling back to the Underworld entrance, but he was no Elite warrior. He knew he could not find his way back to the Underworld entrance without being traced or discovered.
He had a few maps of the surrounding lands but that was all. And they were the military maps of the generals. There was very little upon them as far as giving any hints about the physical terrain. He had soon found the difficulty of the lands about, and he inked in the type of terrain on the parchments, to mark the areas for the time that they would travel back.
He knew that if he could contact the giants, then the giants could help them somehow. Patch had heard stories of how they learned things from the passing wind. They were just stories but Patch had nothing else to base his hopes on. If he ventured into the valley below, he had no guarantee as to where to go. At least this way, he knew which direction to go.
And more than that, he remembered the names of the trade routes and the market cities of the northlands. He had written them down on the maps he had taken. He had drawn in what routes that he knew of in hopes of finding them. He knew from memory where they passed, which mountains and cliffs, but without the map he didn’t know which mountain was which.
During the night, he had directed the crew to move far below the Troll’s Wall and pass the path, one by one, with a packhorse. He thought he would die from the fear as they all crossed. He had been the first and he motioned for the others to follow. When they had all crossed the wide path, he had motioned for them to quickly follow him. They could see the forms of trolls upon the long wall as they quietly traveled below.
The night had been extraordinarily still and they had been forced to take extra care to move in silence. Patch had them travel through the night to put as much distance between them and the Troll’s Wall as possible. They had to keep in the cover of the trees, but as they moved further north, they knew they would have to leave the valley and travel east for a time. For in the dim light of the night, Patch had seen the swamplands that stretched for miles to the northlands, and he knew they would have to travel around them.
The sun was rising when Patch found a tight area thickly covered from overhead that stood just above the swamplands. He could see the peak to the southwest and Diamond’s Lake and the Keep of Baladone. He quietly informed all of the members of his crew to take care of their animals and rest while they could.
As tired as he was, he stood upon a large boulder and watched over his crew as they prepared to sleep. He wavered on his feet from exhaustion. He took a small drink of water from a leather flagon and let it caress his throat. He wondered truly what he was going to do as the warriors in his crew quickly began to fall into the bounds of sleep. He looked around them from above them and hoped he would be granted a greater sense of judgment for the better of them all.
He let himself sit and lean against another boulder as he watched. He laid his sword across his lap and looked at it in the brightening light and hoped that all the choices he had made already were the best he could have made for these people resting below him.
Senah was running with three of the other remaining Watchers. They had just slain another one of the dragon beasts and its Rider and had fled in hopes of not being tracked by another one of them. The last of the Watchers had witnessed the stand of the Elves as they had come to join the Underworld army. They had watched as the Elves had led many away into the mountains, and they had watched as hundreds of the Underworld army were slain, and they had watched as hundreds more were taken prisoner.
It hadn’t been long afterwards that the Dragon Riders had taken to their duty of tracking with a greater zeal. Senah was still breathing hard as he ran among his companions. The Elite Watchers moved in and out of the trees as they cautiously made their way to the south end of the valley. They had moved in a course that maneuvered them around the great burned swath that split the valley. It had taken much longer for them to move around the desolation unseen.
They were upon a higher ground when they spotted a group of nearly thirty people moving as carefully as possible north. Senah and the other Watchers stood and watched them for several moments, and they recognized the uniforms and clothing and horses that the group traveled with. They were part of the supply wagon of the Underworld. Senah knew that they were the crew that had charge of the secret food stores that were in the hills around the valley, enough food to last the Underworld army several months. The army that the Underworld had been.
“Do you think we should lead them back?” asked one of the Watchers.
Senah looked at the travelers as they moved along through the cover of the trees on the side-hill. “No,” said Senah, “they aren’t targeted, as we are.” He paused, looking at them. “Besides, it looks like they know where they’re going.”
They watched for several moments before one of the Watchers moved away into the trees and the others began to follow suit. They wished the company well in their hearts as they left them to their own fortune.
The Watchers decided they would come toward the ravine from the east, so they could be closest to the waterfall. They were carefully covering each other as they moved through the trees when one of the Watchers put up a hand as he heard something. The other three quickly unloosed their bows and took free an arrow and had their bows strung as they quickly moved nearly soundlessly through the undergrowth. They moved in and out of the trees, using them for cover. They would stop with their backs to trees and motion for the first to move forward and when the view was clear, the others followed.
They all came up short and Senah motioned for them to spread out as they saw an open area in the forest, still shadowed from above. They slowly approached and the first two of the Watchers entered into the clearing, aiming their arrows at everything which their eyes scanned. After a moment, the other two came into the clearing from the other side and they all beheld the scene.
All around them, the bodies of men, dwarf, and gargoyle were mingled with a band of goblins, all slain upon the floor of the clearing. As the Watchers examined the bodies, they surmised that it had been quite a fight.
“I heard something,” said one of the Watchers. One of the Watchers walking with his bow suddenly went rigid as he pulled his arrow back more. As he peered, he slowly loosened his bowstring and laid his weapon down as he quickly knelt beside the body of a man.
“He’s alive,” he called to the other Watchers.
Another Watcher was beside another man with a goblin draped over him. “This one is alive also.”
Senah looked as the third Watcher was standing, looking down at a form with its body draped in the crook of a tree. At first glance, Senah knew it to be a dwarf and as he came up upon the Watcher beside him, he recognized the dwarf and he seethed inside. It was Dessen the son of Haile.
Senah scowled at the body. “Is he dead?” he asked.
“No,” said the Watcher. “He’s alive.”
Senah scowled even more. “Damn,” he said disappointedly.
The other watcher felt the same as Senah forced himself to remember his honor and swallow his pride as he took the arm of the unconscious dwarf and slung him over his shoulder. He glared at his friend and grunted from the weight of his burden for a moment. He looked to the others who were picking up their fallen countrymen and he nodded to them. “Let’s go, quickly now, we are very close.”
They moved much slower through the forest as the three Watchers carried the bodies of the three wounded. Senah grimaced from the weight on his back and the sweat poured freely from his face as he forced himself to continue. It was as much as a mental struggle as a physical one to believe he could keep going with what he carried. He knew the others felt the same, from the expressions on their faces. They all breathed hard as they tried to move as quickly as possible.
Senah tried not to think of the hatred he felt for the dwarf on his back. He knew that he was so disgusted with the dwarf, as it was, that if he were to think about it, he would leave the dwarf for dead. He focused on the anger that he felt to give him energy to keep walking, though he tried his best not to think about the person that he really carried. It seemed like the longest mile of their lives as the three Watchers carried the wounded bodies of fully-armored persons. When the waterfall was finally heard, they all breathed a sigh of relief.
The fourth Watcher came into the open and waved a hand at the hidden guards that he could not see. The three Watchers all moved from the heavy cover of the trees. They were all hunched over from their burdens as they moved for the waterfall. In moments, half of the ten warriors of the cliff had come from hiding and quickly run to the waterfall.
All nine of the Underworld warriors had to work to move each of the unconscious bodies from one side to the other. It was a highly dangerous task, for the wounded as much as it was for the nine. When they had all crossed, the four Watchers again took up their burdens and moved for the far cave that stored the Portal of the Underworld entrance. The five guards of the cliff all returned to their places as they caught their breath and pulled their soaked wool cloaks about them tightly to try to warm themselves.
They caught their breath as they watched the four Watchers carefully enter into the small cave. Senah was the last to approach the Portal. He waited for his companions to disappear into the Portal wall before stepping toward it himself. As he took a step toward the Portal, Dessen weakly blinked, his eyes fluttering a moment as he looked around him. As Senah took his last step toward the Portal, Dessen again closed his eyes and they were both enveloped by the depths of the Portal wall.
The ten guardians all looked about and wondered at all that had taken place, for these were the first to return since the start of the battle. They again looked out into the darkening woods and there they waited for the return of Underworld warriors that would never come.
Milo walked through narrow hallways of stone and cave. He came into an open area in the Underground City cut deep into the stone of the earth. Towers and stone buildings rose up, and arches and stairways crossed and joined each of the stone structures. Stone roadways rose above buildings and disappeared into wide tunnels. Hundreds of torches lined sides of the buildings and streets. The criss-cross patterns of the roads reached far above the buildings to the ceiling of the stone caves above. Wide stone pillars supported the enormous highways.
The Little People of the Underground moved quietly in the caves, and not much could be heard from their movement. Milo remembered back to when the elder council of his people had interviewed him once he had returned from the Underworld. A council member had come to him later the same night of the interview and asked a few questions. Milo had been uncertain at first. But he had answered honestly.
The councilor had looked at him with his eyes that were equally as crystal blue as Milo’s. “You came back through the caves, didn’t you?”
Milo had nodded at him. “Yes, I did.”
The councilor had paused and thought for a moment. “That was probably a wise choice.”
Milo had glanced at him before nodding. “I felt that Polaaris had an idea that someone was watching him. I know that he was looking for me, though he did not know who I was, or where I was. He knew that the child survived, and he was looking for it.”
Milo had paused. “I know I was supposed to follow Polaaris back through the Portal, as you directed, but I didn’t think it was wise. I did not think I could hide the child’s presence, as well as my own, at the same time. You know we pass through with him. I did not think I could block what he saw. I could block myself from his mind, so even though his eyes would see me, his mind would not. He would not realize I was there, but I was unsure for the safety of the child.”
The councilor had then nodded before speaking. “Is that how Polaaris passed by the Underworld guardians? He blocked their knowledge of him?”
Milo had nodded. “They saw him, they just didn’t know it. He wouldn’t let them.”
The councilor had smiled. “And you did the same, I presume?”
Milo had nodded in reply. “It took me a few moments to learn how it was done.”
The councilor had interrupted him suddenly. “And so you then used Polaaris’ own trick on him.”
Milo had smiled faintly as he had nodded. “To get inside, yes.” He had paused. “It was difficult to block the guards all at once.”
The councilor had nodded to him. “It was wise of you to go through the caves of the River.”
Milo had kept his silence.
“You know,” the councilor had begun, “that in the days of the Underworld rediscovered, the explorers that searched for the path through the caves were lost in the darkness, and many caves were explored. They wandered beside the River, and they came across handholds in the cliffs beside the rushing River. Below the handholds were places cut in the rock for standing, and they found them and traveled by them, making their way by the path of holds set into the caves. When they could go no farther, and could not find the holds, they would search until they again found the path. It was then that they could continue. They fought and strived to live, and emerged from the caves nearly a full year after they had started from the Underworld.”
Milo had smiled as he had shaken his head. “No, I didn’t know that.” He had paused. “It took them one year?” he had asked in amazement as he looked at the councilor. “It took me and the child no more than three weeks.”
The councilor had nodded knowingly. “You must have soared upon the wind.”
Milo had smiled faintly as he admitted. “The wind did carry us, though we had to rest often, for the child needed nourishment.”
The councilor had patted Milo on his back as he had turned away. “You have done well,” he said.
Milo had watched the councilor shuffle away. All of the councilors of the elders were old. All except Milo. He was among them often. He was their instrument when they needed something discovered.
Milo had not told the councilors all he had done when on his last mission for them to the Underworld. He stood amid his guilt, for he did not know if he had done wrong or good. What he had done had seemed good at the time, but Milo was ashamed to tell the councilors of what else he had done.
Milo stood with his head down and his hood pulled over his face. He looked at the stone pavers beneath him and wondered if he indeed had a good heart. He felt as though he were being deceitful. He decided he would tell them one day, when the right time came. But for now he would just hold it inside of him. It could not do too much harm.
Delton looked up at the sky for a moment before he looked down at his blistered hands as he rested. He leaned against his hoe for a moment while he looked at the damage before taking hold of his farm tool and digging into the soil. Jamar and Faether were working beside him. The field had just been harvested and the stubble of the wheat cut by the scythes was being turned under to enrich the soil for the upcoming year. Jamar worked with his shirt off.
The village weaver was having a hard time understanding how to design a shirt that went around Jamar’s wings. It had taken many visits before the weaver understood what he had to do. It had taken a long time but his shirt had been made and Jamar couldn’t have been more thankful for it. Delton looked at the shirt upon his back and he was impressed with its make.
He again began to till the ground beside his companion and their new friend. Faether was working side by side with Jamar when Jamar turned to him while they worked. “Tell me, Faether, how is it this place is never disturbed?”
Faether looked over at him as they worked and he shook his head and they worked for a moment longer before Faether stood straight and lifted his hoe to lean on. He breathed for a moment and waited as Jamar and Delton did the same.
“Honestly, I believe that things are the way they are, most likely because of me and my brother.” He paused for a moment before adding, “And the Horses of Thunder are the most likely causes.”
Delton squinted in the bright sunlight as he looked across at Faether. “How is that?”
Faether shrugged as he picked his hoe up and slung it over his shoulder. “You would have to ask my mother, she can explain it better than I can.”
Jamar nodded. “When we’re done here, I will.”
Faether smiled. “We are done here, it’s too blazing hot to work any more.”
Delton laughed lightly. “That sounds good to me.”
Jamar looked at Delton as he spoke to Faether. “We can finish in the evening, when it’s cooler.”
Faether nodded. “Alright.”
He turned and the three of them all walked from the field towards the nearest road, which curved around the perimeter of the field and into a stand of trees. They were all bare-footed and they walked confident that there was nothing sharp to step on. After working among these people for several days, they had nearly memorized every sharp stone and thorn of every field and roadway surrounding the small village.
Delton and Jamar waved as villagers passed by in carts drawn by a single horse. They smiled as they passed by and called to each other, wishing the other a good day. There was something real in the atmosphere around the village. Something good was hanging in everything around it. Jamar could smell it in the air and feel it in the unshadowed sunlight.
Delton turned to Faether as they walked. “Why is it that you turn under the grasses that you’ve just cut?”
Faether shrugged. “I don’t know. The fathers of this land found that the following season things grew better if we did it that way. So ever since, we have done it that way.”
Delton nodded. “Aye, that sounds fair enough.” He paused as if thinking. “I wonder what the difference is.”
Faether said nothing as they walked and Jamar looked down at Delton as he walked beside him and Delton smiled at him. “Do I look like a farmer?”
Jamar looked at him quizzically for a moment and was suddenly surprised and he nodded.
Delton nodded. “I might be a farmer one day. I will come back here and farm my own land.”
Jamar laughed. “I certainly hope you do, Delton.”
The half dwarf smiled as he nodded. “If it all turns out alright, then I will.” He paused as he looked around, almost sadly. “It will be hard to leave this place, though.” Jamar said nothing and Delton looked up at him. “You know?”
Jamar nodded. “I know what you mean.”
And Delton knew that he did and he was satisfied. There were no words to describe it, so he didn’t even try.
They entered into the village and Jamar waved at people through open doorways as they passed. They reached the small house of Naysa. Jamar and Delton followed Faether into the small house. Naysa was drying off wooden plates and setting them upon a simple shelf as they entered. Cove was still out working with some of the other villagers and the three all sat around the small table.
Naysa looked at them all a moment. “Can I get you anything?” she asked politely.
Jamar shook his head. “I am satisfied, thank you.”
Faether looked at his mother. “Jamar has something to ask you, mum.”
The old woman gently laid down her well-used hand towel and walked to stand in front of Jamar. “Well, what is it?” she asked, looking at him patiently, her eyes cool and steady.
Jamar looked at her directly with his bold eyes. “Earlier I asked why this village is never bothered by anything, and your son said that you would have to explain it to me.”
Her eyes narrowed and she looked at her son for a moment as if disapprovingly but she nodded, as if consenting to explain. She looked behind her and gracefully sat with her hands in her lap. She looked at Jamar steadily for a moment before beginning.
“To begin with, you have to know that my sons are extraordinary, they are very special.” She looked at them all. “Ever since Faether was born he has been a very obedient child. Something very rare among other children, he also has a very kind heart. I know that you have seen it.” She smiled at her son. “Later, when Cove was born, from the first moment that I laid eyes on him, I could see his innocence. He has the softest soul of any person you will ever meet. He could never do harm to any creature, it would hurt him too much.”
She paused. “Cove isn’t all there as most people are, he thinks a little slower, but he still has a loving and good heart. It allows him to do things that no others can.” She looked at Jamar. “His innocence, that is.” He nodded and she looked back to Faether. “My son Faether has the purest heart of us all. His heart is what allows him to love and care for his brother as well as he does.”
Jamar nodded as he smiled under his mask. “I have seen it.”
She nodded. “Faether is the strongest of the village.” She paused as she held her gaze with her son. “He has a stable mind, but he has dreams of far-off places and things and people he has never seen.”
She looked at Jamar. “Whenever Cove cries, then it rains until he stops.” She paused. “At first we didn’t notice it, but there were times when the skies were clear and he would be hurt by something and the storm would come. It didn’t take long to see it.” She looked back to her son.
“Faether had a dream of two travelers that were surrounded by the giant horses, and they were spared.” She looked from her son to Delton and Jamar. “My son has dreams of things out in the fields, things he couldn’t have seen because he wasn’t there, but he would see them in his dreams, and the villagers would find often, that what he had seen had happened.”
She looked at Jamar and Delton and her eyes seemed to burn into them. “My sons are very special. They are here for a reason, and their presence protects these lands. It’s almost as if the world around them is hiding them in order to protect them. As long as they are here, then all of these people and the village and all of our lands are protected, as well.”
Jamar looked at her, taken aback, and he looked over at Delton who was looking over at him with the same surprise. Naysa looked at them through narrowed eyes. “This is the way it is, and what I have told you are the reasons why.”