TomS
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Vaclyner’s Rite
by
Alan Thomas
Chapter 1
The Proud Liar
“You? Slew a Krenshar? You expect us to believe that?” Vaclyner’s friend, Fragiir, guffawed loud enough for the rest of the tavern to hear. Fragiir had the gift of the largest laugh in the western forest towns and Vaclyner would be surprised if his laughter couldn’t be heard throughout the trees surrounding the village.
“Of course I slew it,” replied Vaclyner. “Why don’t you believe me?”
“Well, prove it, then,” said Fragiir, before taking a long drink from his mug.
“Yeah!” Several others in the group joined in. “Prove it to us, Vaclyner. Show us its head. How about a claw? You could have brought back something.” Vaclyner felt like he was being looked at through one of Demitrus, Boschvila’s local magic user’s, magnifying glasses. He’d never experienced this kind of scrutiny before and he decided that he didn’t like it one bit.
“I’d be satisfied with its tail,” Fragiir wiped at the froth in his beard with his sleeve. “Every time you come back from the forest, you show up here and tell us about some terrible creature you’ve killed without ever supplying a shred of evidence. Where’s the proof?”
Vaclyner unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a line of dried blood running from his left shoulder to the bottom of his sternum. “Well, what about this? How do you think I got this?”
“Haw! I expect you threw yourself at a tree just to lend your story credence.”
“Besides,” said Eryk, a villager three years Vaclyner’s senior. “Everyone knows that Krenshars travel in groups. If you’d really killed the lone scout, all of Boschvila would be over-run by now. They may be animals but they’re crafty enough to follow you here.”
Vaclyner felt his face grow hot in embarrassment. He stayed silent but amid the dubious muttering and laughter, he heard one gentle voice whispering in his ear.
“Well, I don’t care if you killed anything or not.” It was Kirianna, Vaclyner’s friend since childhood. “All I know is I like the look of that wound. It means you’ve grown stronger no matter how you got it. And I like the look of the chest that bears it.”
He turned to her and saw a look in her eyes he’d never imagined he’d ever see Kirianna give him. He’d only seen that look once two years ago when Fragiir had taken him to a brothel in Fleuvila, a city on the Alamarin River some one hundred fifty miles to the east. He’d had a very eye opening time there. It was a strange sensation seeing it in the eyes of this girl he played in puddles with when they were both three years old.
“Well, I’ve had enough of this for one night,” said Eryk. “I’m going home to get some sleep.” Most of the others in the group mumbled in agreement and finished off their mugs.
As they started to leave, Kirianna leaned into Vaclyner and whispered, “I’ll be going home too. You can come along if you like.”
Vaclyner didn’t need a bigger hint than that. “Absolutely,” he replied as he got up to pay his tab. He tossed a few coins on the bar and had just turned to go when he felt a hand on his shoulder restraining him. It was Fragiir. The look on his face wasn’t pleasant.
“Hold on,” said the big man. “We need to talk.”
Vaclyner looked over to the doorway where Kirianna stood waiting and gave her an apologetic look. She smiled at him and shrugged. “Some other time,” she said over her shoulder as she turned and walked out of the tavern.
“This had better be important,” said Vaclyner as Fragiir dragged him back to the table. ”I just missed out on a very interesting night.”
“You can forget about Kirianna tonight. Yeah, it’s important. Sit down.” Vaclyner took a seat and Fragiir sat across from him.
“OK, what’s this about?”
“It’s about your stories,” replied Fragiir. “They have to stop.”
“Who says they’re just stories…”
“Don’t pull that with me, Vac. The boys are gone; you don’t have to impress me”
Vaclyner felt the hotness rise to his cheeks again but he let it pass. “Why do they have to stop?”
“Because, there are real dangers out there,” Fragiir answered. “If you ever run into something real, you won’t be able to fight it. Don’t give me that look. You’ll have to come back here to warn everybody. If you’re a known liar, then no one will believe you and that could be trouble for us all.”
Vaclyner closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. “This village has been here for thousands of years and we haven’t been bothered by the outside world once in all that time. What’s out there that could really be so dangerous to us?”
“Now you listen to me, boy.” Fragiir’s voice became dark and graveled. “I won’t pretend to have seen the whole world but I’ve seen far more than you. Your father and I traveled together before he disappeared. It’s not just magical creatures looking for a good meal out there. There are people in the world with magical powers you’ve never imagined. They wield so much power; they could be thought to be more than human. Or less than human depending on your point of view – and depending on how they use that power. Any one of them could decide tomorrow that the people of Boschvila would make a fine source of slaves, or subjects of their magical experiments. And, yes, even a good meal. So, you see that it would be difficult enough to defend ourselves against such an attack without some fool running in and out of the forest claiming to have killed any number of terrible beasts. And come to think of it, what would be worse: being thought of as a liar or being thought of as a great hero when you aren’t one?”
It was a lot to take in and Vaclyner was momentarily stunned by the mention of his father. He was just three years old when his father went hunting in the forest and never came back. He was fortunate enough to have one or two memories of his father, vague though they were. The man’s favorite color was red and he had several shirts of that color. His father also had three identical rings made - one each for Vaclyner, Vaclyner’s mother, and himself. Vaclyner still wore his ring on a chain around his neck. It had become far too small to wear on his fingers as he grew. His mother died when he was ten and he was taken in by Fragiir until he turned fifteen when a young man was expected to make his own living. Her ring was buried with her.
“We’re not…we’re not so defenseless. We have Demitrus. He has magic.”
“Demitrus! In all the time I’ve known him, I’ve only seen him perform two spells. He can light a fire and put it out again. Handy for cooking and helping with house fires but against the magic that’s out there, he’d shrivel into nothing. Believe me, Vaclyner. I’ve seen a battle between two great magic wielders. They laid waste to the land for miles around. I only watched from the ledge of a mountain and I never want to see something like that any closer.”
Vaclyner closed his eyes and sighed, defeated. “All right, Fragiir. The stories will stop. I promise.”
“That’s good,” Fragiir replied. He leaned back in his chair and looked at his young friend. Vaclyner saw a puzzled look cross the big man’s face. Fragiir held his gaze for a moment before speaking. “So, how did you get that gash on your chest anyway?”
“Oh, that.” Vaclyner looked sheepish. “I was walking down a steep slope in the forest and slipped. I fell face first and my shoulder hit a sharp stone that cut across me as I slid down the hill.”
Fragiir continued to stare at the boy for a few moments longer then burst out with a thunderous laugh. Vaclyner stood up and walked out of the tavern, his face burning once more. He could still hear Fragiir’s laughter as he walked home in the dark.
by
Alan Thomas
Chapter 1
The Proud Liar
“You? Slew a Krenshar? You expect us to believe that?” Vaclyner’s friend, Fragiir, guffawed loud enough for the rest of the tavern to hear. Fragiir had the gift of the largest laugh in the western forest towns and Vaclyner would be surprised if his laughter couldn’t be heard throughout the trees surrounding the village.
“Of course I slew it,” replied Vaclyner. “Why don’t you believe me?”
“Well, prove it, then,” said Fragiir, before taking a long drink from his mug.
“Yeah!” Several others in the group joined in. “Prove it to us, Vaclyner. Show us its head. How about a claw? You could have brought back something.” Vaclyner felt like he was being looked at through one of Demitrus, Boschvila’s local magic user’s, magnifying glasses. He’d never experienced this kind of scrutiny before and he decided that he didn’t like it one bit.
“I’d be satisfied with its tail,” Fragiir wiped at the froth in his beard with his sleeve. “Every time you come back from the forest, you show up here and tell us about some terrible creature you’ve killed without ever supplying a shred of evidence. Where’s the proof?”
Vaclyner unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a line of dried blood running from his left shoulder to the bottom of his sternum. “Well, what about this? How do you think I got this?”
“Haw! I expect you threw yourself at a tree just to lend your story credence.”
“Besides,” said Eryk, a villager three years Vaclyner’s senior. “Everyone knows that Krenshars travel in groups. If you’d really killed the lone scout, all of Boschvila would be over-run by now. They may be animals but they’re crafty enough to follow you here.”
Vaclyner felt his face grow hot in embarrassment. He stayed silent but amid the dubious muttering and laughter, he heard one gentle voice whispering in his ear.
“Well, I don’t care if you killed anything or not.” It was Kirianna, Vaclyner’s friend since childhood. “All I know is I like the look of that wound. It means you’ve grown stronger no matter how you got it. And I like the look of the chest that bears it.”
He turned to her and saw a look in her eyes he’d never imagined he’d ever see Kirianna give him. He’d only seen that look once two years ago when Fragiir had taken him to a brothel in Fleuvila, a city on the Alamarin River some one hundred fifty miles to the east. He’d had a very eye opening time there. It was a strange sensation seeing it in the eyes of this girl he played in puddles with when they were both three years old.
“Well, I’ve had enough of this for one night,” said Eryk. “I’m going home to get some sleep.” Most of the others in the group mumbled in agreement and finished off their mugs.
As they started to leave, Kirianna leaned into Vaclyner and whispered, “I’ll be going home too. You can come along if you like.”
Vaclyner didn’t need a bigger hint than that. “Absolutely,” he replied as he got up to pay his tab. He tossed a few coins on the bar and had just turned to go when he felt a hand on his shoulder restraining him. It was Fragiir. The look on his face wasn’t pleasant.
“Hold on,” said the big man. “We need to talk.”
Vaclyner looked over to the doorway where Kirianna stood waiting and gave her an apologetic look. She smiled at him and shrugged. “Some other time,” she said over her shoulder as she turned and walked out of the tavern.
“This had better be important,” said Vaclyner as Fragiir dragged him back to the table. ”I just missed out on a very interesting night.”
“You can forget about Kirianna tonight. Yeah, it’s important. Sit down.” Vaclyner took a seat and Fragiir sat across from him.
“OK, what’s this about?”
“It’s about your stories,” replied Fragiir. “They have to stop.”
“Who says they’re just stories…”
“Don’t pull that with me, Vac. The boys are gone; you don’t have to impress me”
Vaclyner felt the hotness rise to his cheeks again but he let it pass. “Why do they have to stop?”
“Because, there are real dangers out there,” Fragiir answered. “If you ever run into something real, you won’t be able to fight it. Don’t give me that look. You’ll have to come back here to warn everybody. If you’re a known liar, then no one will believe you and that could be trouble for us all.”
Vaclyner closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. “This village has been here for thousands of years and we haven’t been bothered by the outside world once in all that time. What’s out there that could really be so dangerous to us?”
“Now you listen to me, boy.” Fragiir’s voice became dark and graveled. “I won’t pretend to have seen the whole world but I’ve seen far more than you. Your father and I traveled together before he disappeared. It’s not just magical creatures looking for a good meal out there. There are people in the world with magical powers you’ve never imagined. They wield so much power; they could be thought to be more than human. Or less than human depending on your point of view – and depending on how they use that power. Any one of them could decide tomorrow that the people of Boschvila would make a fine source of slaves, or subjects of their magical experiments. And, yes, even a good meal. So, you see that it would be difficult enough to defend ourselves against such an attack without some fool running in and out of the forest claiming to have killed any number of terrible beasts. And come to think of it, what would be worse: being thought of as a liar or being thought of as a great hero when you aren’t one?”
It was a lot to take in and Vaclyner was momentarily stunned by the mention of his father. He was just three years old when his father went hunting in the forest and never came back. He was fortunate enough to have one or two memories of his father, vague though they were. The man’s favorite color was red and he had several shirts of that color. His father also had three identical rings made - one each for Vaclyner, Vaclyner’s mother, and himself. Vaclyner still wore his ring on a chain around his neck. It had become far too small to wear on his fingers as he grew. His mother died when he was ten and he was taken in by Fragiir until he turned fifteen when a young man was expected to make his own living. Her ring was buried with her.
“We’re not…we’re not so defenseless. We have Demitrus. He has magic.”
“Demitrus! In all the time I’ve known him, I’ve only seen him perform two spells. He can light a fire and put it out again. Handy for cooking and helping with house fires but against the magic that’s out there, he’d shrivel into nothing. Believe me, Vaclyner. I’ve seen a battle between two great magic wielders. They laid waste to the land for miles around. I only watched from the ledge of a mountain and I never want to see something like that any closer.”
Vaclyner closed his eyes and sighed, defeated. “All right, Fragiir. The stories will stop. I promise.”
“That’s good,” Fragiir replied. He leaned back in his chair and looked at his young friend. Vaclyner saw a puzzled look cross the big man’s face. Fragiir held his gaze for a moment before speaking. “So, how did you get that gash on your chest anyway?”
“Oh, that.” Vaclyner looked sheepish. “I was walking down a steep slope in the forest and slipped. I fell face first and my shoulder hit a sharp stone that cut across me as I slid down the hill.”
Fragiir continued to stare at the boy for a few moments longer then burst out with a thunderous laugh. Vaclyner stood up and walked out of the tavern, his face burning once more. He could still hear Fragiir’s laughter as he walked home in the dark.
