Chronicles of the Chaos Moon
The Blackness Beyond
Robert W. Uhl
Chapter I
The Last Adventure
T
he valley of Daneldune was a peaceful one and a quiet one, nestled comfortably in the southwestern part of a continent known as Gradiena. It didn't get many visitors—the reasons for which will soon be revealed—and furthermore, in most circumstances involving walking, one had to make the journey over the Wind Range in order to reach it.
In short, the Wind Range was the very element that made the Daneldune Valley and actual valley. It was a long chain of high mountains that encompassed the land in a wide circle, one with a span of about fifty miles. Being a small valley, Daneldune had only a mere four towns to call its own, all of which were either of very faint importance or unknown in existence to any who dwelt on the outside of the secluded vale. One of these towns in particular was called Nodlin.
Like the other three settlements of the valley; Tolu, Maher, and Hastoll; Nodlin was excessively remote and probably the one village of littlest renown in the entire country, and perhaps even with the smallest population. It was tucked away in the northeastern corner of the dale (the dominantly suburban part) where not many people abided. However, if one were to travel due south from the tiny burg that was Nodlin; one would eventually reach the town of Hastoll.
Daneldune's largest town (actually more of a city) was situated to the extreme south of the valley, between the arms of two of the Wind Range's great peaks. The small gap that Hastoll rested in was known as The Gate, as it was the only area where the mountains of the majestic circle displayed a segment of hills that were not connected, thus the only entrance one could use that did not require utilizing passage of the unfriendly mountains. Hastoll was a port town—the one settlement that had ever been visited by travelers from outside its own land—and the arrivals had always been by sea. Merchants, crews restocking supplies, and the occasional (but rare) tourist were the only types of visitors the city received, and even then, the newcomers did not stay long. To them, Hastoll was just another part of the Daneldune Valley; clearly a place of utter seclusion and remoteness; and those who entered it soon passed out again without so much as a second thought.
Things were much different with native Daneldune citizens, however. Hastoll was by far the valley's most populated town, and residents of Tolu, Maher, and even Nodlin (the latter was furthest away) often visited the city. Not as one would visit friends, though; people in Daneldune seldom knew anyone outside their own village, due primarily to the wide spacing between them; but the inhabitants from outside the city were drawn to it because of the ships.
Ah, the ships. Few in the valley had laid eyes on one before, besides seeing pictures of them in books, but stories were told throughout all four of Daneldune's communities about them. Folks would make the pilgrimage of many miles to the great southern port city just to glimpse the wooden water- borne marvels, but while they were there they were often caught up in many a tale from an adventurous sailor who had seen far more lands than they had.
Gathered around the nautical storyteller and perhaps a few of his friends, the agrarian people of Daneldune would be seated in the dim light of one of Hastoll's many taverns, sipping cool ale, while the seaman spun tales of deserts and forests, of pirates and gold, and of magic and evil creatures too terrible to describe. Many of these accounts were not just stories, however. Many of them were in fact true, if a bit exaggerated, and the enterprising types who heard them were fascinated and in awe by such things of grandeur, things that kindled the burning, genuine lust for adventure in their sheltered hearts. Unfortunately, however, there were very few audacious people of that sort of nature in Daneldune, and those who were not of the adventuresome temperament usually reacted to similar anecdotes in a negative fashion.
The vast majority of the valley-dwellers, to put it simply, despised any nonsense that had to do with 'adventures' and just about everything that related to them. (In fact, it was traditionally considered asinine by the routine folks—typically the town elders—to even have thoughts of moving away from the Valley.) To the tradition-lovers, ships were a bad omen, magic—if it even existed, which they did not believe—was entirely evil, distant lands were the thoughts of fools, and change was inordinately unacceptable. Their lives consisted of little more than the hard day's work and the good night's sleep, and that was just the way it had always been and how they wanted it to remain. The older folks nearly took pride in shunning the few 'odd ones', as they were dubbed, who actually might have possessed thoughts—however faint they might have been—of taking off in some ship and leaving the valley in search of… what? Treasure!? Utter preposterousness, they'd mutter. And so, even more unfortunately, that aspiring little spark of adventure that might have begun to take root within the heart of a courageous individual was crushed, smothered, and stamped on until it was no more.
When adventure was not the theme of conversation, life—as boring at is was for some—got along most simply and pleasantly, and nearly all were quite content. Still, there were those who could hardly stand living behind the imprisoning walls of the Wind Range. There was that scant handful of people who had not let the criticism and name-calling affect them, those who took the title 'odd one' as a compliment, and those who loved adventure more than custom. They were the kind of people who considered a lifetime spent entirely in a circle of land fifty miles in diameter an outright wasted one. A certain one of those rare gems was a young boy named Justin Taylor.
A boy of fourteen, Justin had short-length, dark brown hair and a wide pair of sparkling emerald eyes. He was a lithe, agile boy: energetic and a lover of the great outdoors. A great deal of his free time was spent in the old forest north of his hometown, Nodlin, where he had lived his entire life. While in the forest, he would pass the time observing the wildlife, swimming in the cool basin near the bottom of the brook, or just sitting up in a tree: reading and relaxing quietly in the shade. Indeed, life did treat him well, but he always had a peculiar feeling that there was something missing from it… something so large, yet so mysterious, that try as he might, he could not discern what it might be.
Mia Shonnette was Justin's lifelong best friend, and in many ways, she was very similar to him. They were the same age, and both had lived in Nodlin ever since they had been born. Mia's hair was jet-black, her eyes a light, almost transparent gray. Justin found her quite attractive, but they had never had anything serious going on together.
What they did have together, though, were marvelous times in the valley during their young days; roaming fields and forests, skipping stones across streams, climbing trees and swinging from branches, and sometimes merely sitting at their favorite spot by Sunset Lake, thinking about things peacefully while the whole world passed them by. Sometime later, when they were together in their old age, they would remember those good old times spent in Daneldune that would then seem so long ago; times when you came home to eat and sleep, but otherwise the wilderness was your home. Times when you explored somewhere new each day, when you were assured things would go on as they were forever and ever…. Those extraordinary, dream- filled days when they were children and the entirety of life was their play land. It was fair to them then, and it expected nothing in return.
In the fading orange sunlight of a warm June evening, Justin Taylor and Mia Shonnette sat beside one another on a small hill overlooking the gleaming Sunset Lake below them, highlighted with brilliant pools of shimmering light. The late spring wind swept over the gallant meadows of the valley, playing with their hair and serving as a lift to the swooping eventide birds far above. They had come to the lake as they had almost every night hitherto, to watch the sun sink below the western tips of the Wind Range in a burning glow of orange fire.
The few birds flying over the lake let out their last calls for the day, sailing across the colorful sky with a romantic gracefulness that was too elegant to perceive without becoming a bit teary-eyed. Justin and Mia sat and watched while the sun completed its trip behind the mountains and went to look down upon other lands, and the first spring stars began to peep out from the darkening sky.
All the while they did not speak very much, for now came the time when that same thought—a most wonderful thought—a sorrowful yet truly beautiful notion, began to once again take an ethereal shape and weave through their minds with a dream-like stillness, and Mia leaned on Justin's shoulder, letting it interlace on its flight of fancy through their souls. It was the thought, the wish, the dream; the dream that perhaps somehow, some way, life could continue as it was forever and ever, on through the ages…. Nevertheless, always following swiftly behind that concept of wishful thinking was the inevitable truth, and it pierced their desires like a cold knife.
They sat there for some time longer, heads tilted back to take in as much of the sky as their eyes would allow. And oh, what a sky. Just as it always had been, it was beautiful now—one of the few things that never lost any of its splendor no matter how many countless hours they spent looking upon it. Presently the slowly waxing moon was approaching its zenith, all the stars were beginning to shine forth, and then finally the comets began to streak in heavenly currents of effulgent silver. This was always their favorite part of the evening's natural showcase.
They continued to gaze, Mia still resting on Justin's shoulder, when the latter lifted his hand and delicately ran it through Mia's hair, then moved it down and gently rubbed her back. She smiled and looked at him; the reflection of the sky was in his bright eyes.
The comets were everywhere now, three or four bolting with sleek brilliance across the black expanse every second or so. Justin watched with a far-off look in the eyes Mia was still glaring dreamily into, mesmerized with the loveliness of God's expanse of space.
"Justin…."
Suddenly the sound of Mia's gentle, clear voice sounded in his ear. It resonated beautifully, as it always had to him, but at present it held in it also a note of concern and what seemed to be—could it be?—sadness.
"Mia?" Justin answered, turning his gaze from the sky to meet her deep, penetrating gray eyes, which, he thought, were just as attractive. She only stared at him rather forlornly, those dazzling eyes glistening with all the light of the stars.
"I want it to stay like this forever too, Justin, you know," she said softly, adjusting her head's position on his shoulder and then casting her gaze forward, across the lake, and into the sky. He followed her line of sight. "I know we've got a few more years ahead of us until we're… you know—adults. But—I don't want to move on…."
Mia paused, but Justin did not respond to her right away. As his eyes wandered from star to comet to moon and all over again, a strange feeling arose somewhere deep within him, of utter despondency yet inexplicable gladness. A moment or so passed, and then all at once he wanted so badly to cry (he did not know whether it was from overwhelming happiness or sadness; perhaps it was because he could not decide between the two), but the tears would not form in his eyes. He looked at Mia, who he guessed felt just the same as him.
"I understand, Mia," Justin said at length. She did not look at him. "But there's no reason to—to think about it right now. We have our whole lives ahead of us, really. Not just a few years—"
"And you're planning on staying in Nodlin for that long?" Mia said shortly, lifting her head off his shoulder. She looked him squarely in the face, and it was then that both their tears began truly to form.
"Mia, no—you're right. I—I know we can't stay in Daneldune forever. That's not what I was saying."
"No, it wasn't, I know." Mia sighed and stared at the ground. A small tear escaped from one of her eyes, and she sighed again, going on after a deep breath. "We can't stay here. Not now, not forever, not anymore. Do you see what I'm saying?"
Justin did see, but he believed he did so reluctantly. He paused for a moment and looked hard at her, not knowing what to say. Then "Mia," he found, "are you implying we just leave? Just like that?"
She answered after several seconds. "I don't know what I'm implying, Justin," she rejoined, now looking out over the lake that held the reflection of the heavens above, "but what I do know is that by remaining here, in Nodlin, in Daneldune, we are—well, what are we living for? When you think about, I mean, what is there to live for, enclosed in this place?" Justin could see she was speaking with total sincerity. "When we were kids, it seemed our lives were all mountains and rivers and forests, but now… isn't it obvious that the real world is passing us by? I need adventure Justin, and I sure can't find it here."
Justin agreed with every word she had said; in fact, he had been thinking that same thing. He maintained his viewing of the arresting, star- dotted expanse spread out above him, his soul quivering with profound wonder, sadness, and romance. The words that he then spoke he later thought may have been spoken too quickly; in fact he did not even realize he had said them until several moments had passed. It was as if a thought he was too afraid to say aloud someone escaped his mind.
"Mia… then—then we'll leave."
She turned her head slowly towards him, her shoulder-length midnight hair flying serenely behind her. Her eyes lit up like they never had before, and for a moment it seemed to Justin that by looking into them he was viewing two skies at once, two gorgeous, beautiful skies. She smiled widely at him, every bit of her countenance ablaze with the spirit and excitement of high adventure. And then, right then and there, on a grassy hillside by the eastern shores of Sunset Lake, beneath the spectacular vault of heaven shining with a million burnished jewels and a frosty white full moon, Justin Taylor received his first sincere kiss.
The following night was June the fifteenth and was, simply put, as gorgeous as the last. Earlier that day a thick gray sheet of clouds had blocked out all view of the sky over the valley, though it had not rained but for a light drizzle when dawn had come nigh. Then, when evening had set it, the fresh wind from the south, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of the sea, had rolled back the clouds to reveal a sky just as embellished as it had been the night before.
That night the moon was unquestionably full, and it hung huge and bright over the sleepy abodes of Daneldune, surrounded on all sides by stars; a heavenly bed of sparkling sand. The comets were now gliding across the vast black expanse like rushing gray water from a vigorously leaping stream, and the breeze was light and cool, flying low over the fields outside of town and making the grass ripple like a yawning, gray-green sea under the snowy light cast from the moon.
Within the village of Nodlin, an ancient stone bridge lay across a long, low channel where, below, the Daneltap River flowed in silence. The sides of the channel were of stone and went down about eight feet in the area near the bridge. Down inside the canal on either side was a narrow strip of wet, sandy turf dotted with riverweeds and smooth round stones. It was in-between these two strips of land that the Daneltap flowed, now at one of its slenderest points.
As the time drew near to midnight, two figures clothed in dim gray traveling cloaks with hoods overshadowing their faces began to appear out of the gloom farther up the channel from the bridge. They conveyed large backpacks, walking quickly and silently along the dark crispy sand, keeping close to the wall on one side of the babbling river. In a minute or so they reached the darker shade of the bridge spanning the short space overhead, and there they halted and set down their packs for a moment.
By the side of the river, an old two-person rowboat had been harbored, tied to a bent, rusty stake that had been set deeply into the turf. One of the figures approached the small wooden vessel and untied it, while the other took up both packs, first one and then the other, and set them inside the boat. Then carefully, cautious not to make much sound, the two stepped aboard the creaking vessel, crouching low so as not to be seen.
They relaxed a bit once they were situated, and the cloaked one in the back of the boat took up the oars. The only sounds that could be heard were the gentle gurgling of the dark Daneltap, the distant serenity of crickets chirping up above, and the soft creaking of the little boat as it began to slide southward down the dark waterway, rocking gingerly from side to side.
For several minutes, nothing was said amongst the boat's occupants: they only continued to drift down the forthright Daneltap, sheltered by the walls of stone on both sides of them. On their way, they passed beneath one other bridge, and the air was still warm, if a bit stuffy; the night wind was passing overhead. Far above, the moon shone down on the river, and the boat's reflection danced on the water's steady surface.
Truly, there could not have been a better night for what they were presently undertaking, but behind the shadows that lay across their faces, the expressions they wore were blank. In one way, they were overwhelmed with joy to be on their way after so long a time, and never before had the consciousness of adventure been more animate in either of them. However, they were also apprehensive, for not only were they leaving their homes but the only lives they had ever known: about to enter a world where all was unfamiliar to them, and where not a shred of their future could be certain.
For how long the tiny boat traveled south down the slender river, none of them could be certain. Mia reckoned it had been almost an hour, while Justin guessed they had been along for only half that time. They were only sure that eventually, whether it was sixty minutes or thirty or more or less, the stone trench walls on either side of them began to gradually slope downwards and angle out, becoming lower and wider as they drifted on. Soon the walls ran down into the ground and disappeared altogether, and their little craft emerged into the night air.
The cold essence of the nighttime filled their senses, and they shivered as the wind swept down from the hills on their left and right, for they had grown accustomed to the warmer atmosphere inside the river pass. Mia pulled her cloak tightly around herself and drew her knees up beneath her chin. Justin rummaged in their supplies for a blanket and wrapped it around her. She looked at him with a smile of thanks, then closed her eyes and rested.
After a long while, the two of them looked back, and they saw now far away up the long river the dark outline of their town, illuminated by the light of the full moon. And behind that; far, far behind; stood the great black silhouettes of the Wind Range's noble northern peaks. For several moments longer, they gazed upon the familiar sight, but soon turned away lest sadness should overcome them.
And after they turned back to the south, away from their lives, family, and friends, and towards a new world wholly foreign to them, they never set foot in nor saw again the little town they called Nodlin for a long, long time to come.
In an hour's time or so, the river began to increase its speed, and as it did so, it began to widen and increase in depth. Justin sat in the rear of the boat leaning on his pack, himself now wrapped in a blanket, and shivering from the chilly wind. Mia was fast asleep in the bow, and Justin smiled at her. They were on their way, the both of them together.
Down the river their boat drifted for some time longer, until the banks on either side began to close in once more and the water once again became slow and lazy. Nodlin was long since out of sight, for the darkness behind them was far too thick to see through, and even if the sun had been out, they would have still been too far away to perceive it. But in front of them, the southern hills of the Wind Range were drawing nearer and nearer, and between a certain pair of them lay their escape from the Daneldune Valley.
Presently the time was approaching three o'clock in the morning, or so Justin estimated, and he was already feeling more than a little tired. He had spent most of the previous day planning with Mia, most of the night packing (since that had been too risky to undertake during the day), and there had been almost no time for even a little relaxation. Justin knew that if he didn't get some rest, he would soon fall asleep in the boat, and he certainly didn't want that to happen.
In a few minutes, Justin spotted a good spot to moor their tiny vessel temporarily, and picking up the oars, he steered the boat over to the right bank. There he gently nudged Mia awake, and both stepped out and drew the rowboat up onto land, then continued to drag it over the edge of a small mound down into a hollow so it would not be seen. As they were doing this, Mia pointed out that the dry hollow would also be an apt place to sleep, so she began unpacking the luggage while Justin returned to the riverbank. Here he took a few minutes to cover up any tracks they might have made while moving their boat away from the river.
Though the area of Daneldune they were now in was seldom traveled, Justin thought it necessary to erase any evidence that might arouse suspicion that might lead to their discovery. Once he and Mia reached the southern, more populated region of the valley, they wouldn't mind being seen, but as for now Justin wanted to play it safe. Anyone who sighted them now would undoubtedly have more than a few questions as to just what two children were doing out on the Daneldune Flats this far from a town, and neither Justin nor Mia would be in any mood to answer them. Their current goal, of course, was to leave Daneldune, and this is how they planned to accomplish it:
Once they arrived at Hastoll, probably around ten or eleven o'clock on the evening of this same day, they would put up for the night and then get an early start on the following morning. They had decided to sell their boat for what they could, set out on foot through The Gate, and then steer to the east around the cape of the Magenta Mountains until they reached the port town capital of Gradiena, the great City of Lights: Val- marran. When they reached this place, the whole eastern frontier of Gradiena would be spread before them, and beyond that—it made them literally quiver with anticipation just to think about it—beyond that would be other lands, lands full of danger and adventure; territories and nations and kingdoms they had only heard of in rumors and only seen in dreams. There would be mountains to climb, valleys to explore, deserts to cross, and forests to delve into. The thought of all this was very nearly more than they could take at the time, but one thing was for sure: it brought a smile to their faces as nothing else could ever do.
Justin returned to the hollow, where he found Mia had finished pitching the small tent they had brought with them. They hadn't much time for a real meal; nor did they need one; and they certainly could not risk a fire, so they extracted a couple of hardtack, jerky, and water rations from their stores. These were not exceedingly filling, but they were quite decent and gave the pair great content to be eating like adventurers while on a great journey. It was true—they were adventurers now, and though they did not know it, the journey they had set out on would soon unfold into a far greater quest than any they could ever imagine.
It was then—when they had finished eating and had begun to climb into the little tent and settle inside their warm sleeping bags—that the knowledge made itself clear in their minds. It was the knowledge that at last, at long, long last, they were finally on their way.
The full moon, the stars, and the seemingly non-ceasing comets were above them, the wide-open land all around them, and the uncertainties of impending adventures before them. Up until this day, it had been so hard to believe that they would ever embark upon a real expedition, one that would take them out of the valley, but now they knew it was really, truly happening. And that only meant they went to sleep even happier than before.
The next morning dawned bright and early, but it wasn't until noon was getting on that Justin and Mia awoke from their contented slumber. Fortunately, it was far warmer than the previous night, and the sky was blue and clear. After a hasty meal, they hauled the boat back to the water's edge, loaded their small quantity of supplies onto it, and hit the river once more.
As the day went on, Justin and Mia found their journey downstream considerably more enjoyable than it had been before. The sun shone down on the fine waters of the River Daneltap, and all about them, the tree-dotted land was wide and green and flowing. The southernmost peaks of the Wind Range were growing taller and looming nearer: it looked as if they would be able to reach them, at the river's now quickening pace, in less than nine hours.
Justin steered the boat downriver, and he and Mia talked long into the day about things they were planning on doing in the future—at Hastoll and at Val-marran. The trip down the Daneltap was plain and comparatively uneventful, but the beauty of the country and the ever- present enthusiasm within the young travelers kept them rowing on, devoid even of a trace of boredom.
After a time, Justin withdrew from a special pouch his venerated sweet-potato ocarina, and it shone in the June sunlight like a vivid emerald. Mia's eyes lit up upon seeing it, for up until now she had not thought about singing, though it had been one of her favorite things to do back in Nodlin. She looked at Justin with a quiet smile, and he nodded at her and began to play.
Mia recognized the melody at once, and she waited for the introduction to end before she began singing the first verse. The song was powerful and yearning; it spoke of things far away and times long forgotten. Justin marveled at Mia's voice: high, clear, and simply astounding. His fingers danced over the indentations of the verdant instrument, creating air flavored with the miracle of sound. They performed an expansive range of songs, some sad and slow, others merry and upbeat, still others compelling and mysterious. Justin played from his heart, Mia sang from hers, and the notes of each floated into the air, where they found one another, intertwined, and created exquisite melodies of love, romance, and adventure.
Occasionally the two would pause for a break and stare at the passing scenery in admirable silence. Often a sigh or two would escape them as they thought of all the marvels their music spoke of, but it only made them want to sing and play more: to hear the songs and allow the words to paint awe-inspiring images in the depths of their minds. It wasn't until the sun had departed behind the dark hills far to their right that they laid their music-making skills to rest for the day.
The moon now hung in the sky, large and almost full, like a bright ebony Christmas ornament amongst invisible branches strung with gray sparkling lights. The scent of the fragrant herbs that grew along their current riverside area filled their noses with a sharp, tingling scent. The trickle of the water on all sides of them was peaceful and relaxing. Tonight would be another quiet night along the Daneltap River.
Suddenly Mia sprang up from her seated position in the rear of the boat. The tiny vessel protested by creaking loudly into the night and teetering unevenly in the dark water. Justin instinctively grasped both sides of the rowboat for stability, looking up past his hood at Mia as the boat settled down.
"Mia, what—"
"There it is!" she mused, and thrust a finger dead ahead. Justin followed her gesture with his eyes, and sure enough, there it was. Between the great black arms of two mountains, a grand city was positioned, lit all over by the spirited glow of a myriad of torches and lamps. The sight was cheerful and inviting, and Justin's face opened into a wide grin upon the sight of it. At last, Hastoll was in view.
They gazed at the town—far larger than they had pictured it, for no, they had never seen it—for several moments longer, and then faced one another. Both were smiling contently, demonstrating that the first step of their journey together was almost complete. Justin and Mia heaved a sigh of relief, and shared a long embrace together in their small boat.
At half-past ten on the still spring evening of May the seventh, an old wooden rowboat drifted up to a small dock in a dark back harbor of Daneldune's capital. A boy stepped up onto the firm wood and, taking his female companion by the hand, helped her up beside him. Their two bags of luggage were removed and slung over their shoulders, and the boat was tied and left sitting on the water where it was. Then together the two walked side-by-side down the wharf and into the city.
As for what they could see, there was no one around the same docking area as they, although there were a few small fishing boats harbored beside theirs. They could tell that the town area lay close ahead of them because of the glow from just over the hill; down the wooden walkway, across a short field, and then over the slope.
It was in this way that Justin Taylor and Mia Shonnette started off, following a worn stone path in the dark, sweet-smelling grass on either side of them. The bright glow of the sleepless city just over the lip of the hill seemed to rise and grow clearer as they approached. A few moments later, they were standing atop the shadowy prominence, surveying the immense town spread out before them with wide-eyed wonder.
Chapter II
Hastoll
The Blackness Beyond
Robert W. Uhl
Chapter I
The Last Adventure
T
he valley of Daneldune was a peaceful one and a quiet one, nestled comfortably in the southwestern part of a continent known as Gradiena. It didn't get many visitors—the reasons for which will soon be revealed—and furthermore, in most circumstances involving walking, one had to make the journey over the Wind Range in order to reach it.
In short, the Wind Range was the very element that made the Daneldune Valley and actual valley. It was a long chain of high mountains that encompassed the land in a wide circle, one with a span of about fifty miles. Being a small valley, Daneldune had only a mere four towns to call its own, all of which were either of very faint importance or unknown in existence to any who dwelt on the outside of the secluded vale. One of these towns in particular was called Nodlin.
Like the other three settlements of the valley; Tolu, Maher, and Hastoll; Nodlin was excessively remote and probably the one village of littlest renown in the entire country, and perhaps even with the smallest population. It was tucked away in the northeastern corner of the dale (the dominantly suburban part) where not many people abided. However, if one were to travel due south from the tiny burg that was Nodlin; one would eventually reach the town of Hastoll.
Daneldune's largest town (actually more of a city) was situated to the extreme south of the valley, between the arms of two of the Wind Range's great peaks. The small gap that Hastoll rested in was known as The Gate, as it was the only area where the mountains of the majestic circle displayed a segment of hills that were not connected, thus the only entrance one could use that did not require utilizing passage of the unfriendly mountains. Hastoll was a port town—the one settlement that had ever been visited by travelers from outside its own land—and the arrivals had always been by sea. Merchants, crews restocking supplies, and the occasional (but rare) tourist were the only types of visitors the city received, and even then, the newcomers did not stay long. To them, Hastoll was just another part of the Daneldune Valley; clearly a place of utter seclusion and remoteness; and those who entered it soon passed out again without so much as a second thought.
Things were much different with native Daneldune citizens, however. Hastoll was by far the valley's most populated town, and residents of Tolu, Maher, and even Nodlin (the latter was furthest away) often visited the city. Not as one would visit friends, though; people in Daneldune seldom knew anyone outside their own village, due primarily to the wide spacing between them; but the inhabitants from outside the city were drawn to it because of the ships.
Ah, the ships. Few in the valley had laid eyes on one before, besides seeing pictures of them in books, but stories were told throughout all four of Daneldune's communities about them. Folks would make the pilgrimage of many miles to the great southern port city just to glimpse the wooden water- borne marvels, but while they were there they were often caught up in many a tale from an adventurous sailor who had seen far more lands than they had.
Gathered around the nautical storyteller and perhaps a few of his friends, the agrarian people of Daneldune would be seated in the dim light of one of Hastoll's many taverns, sipping cool ale, while the seaman spun tales of deserts and forests, of pirates and gold, and of magic and evil creatures too terrible to describe. Many of these accounts were not just stories, however. Many of them were in fact true, if a bit exaggerated, and the enterprising types who heard them were fascinated and in awe by such things of grandeur, things that kindled the burning, genuine lust for adventure in their sheltered hearts. Unfortunately, however, there were very few audacious people of that sort of nature in Daneldune, and those who were not of the adventuresome temperament usually reacted to similar anecdotes in a negative fashion.
The vast majority of the valley-dwellers, to put it simply, despised any nonsense that had to do with 'adventures' and just about everything that related to them. (In fact, it was traditionally considered asinine by the routine folks—typically the town elders—to even have thoughts of moving away from the Valley.) To the tradition-lovers, ships were a bad omen, magic—if it even existed, which they did not believe—was entirely evil, distant lands were the thoughts of fools, and change was inordinately unacceptable. Their lives consisted of little more than the hard day's work and the good night's sleep, and that was just the way it had always been and how they wanted it to remain. The older folks nearly took pride in shunning the few 'odd ones', as they were dubbed, who actually might have possessed thoughts—however faint they might have been—of taking off in some ship and leaving the valley in search of… what? Treasure!? Utter preposterousness, they'd mutter. And so, even more unfortunately, that aspiring little spark of adventure that might have begun to take root within the heart of a courageous individual was crushed, smothered, and stamped on until it was no more.
When adventure was not the theme of conversation, life—as boring at is was for some—got along most simply and pleasantly, and nearly all were quite content. Still, there were those who could hardly stand living behind the imprisoning walls of the Wind Range. There was that scant handful of people who had not let the criticism and name-calling affect them, those who took the title 'odd one' as a compliment, and those who loved adventure more than custom. They were the kind of people who considered a lifetime spent entirely in a circle of land fifty miles in diameter an outright wasted one. A certain one of those rare gems was a young boy named Justin Taylor.
A boy of fourteen, Justin had short-length, dark brown hair and a wide pair of sparkling emerald eyes. He was a lithe, agile boy: energetic and a lover of the great outdoors. A great deal of his free time was spent in the old forest north of his hometown, Nodlin, where he had lived his entire life. While in the forest, he would pass the time observing the wildlife, swimming in the cool basin near the bottom of the brook, or just sitting up in a tree: reading and relaxing quietly in the shade. Indeed, life did treat him well, but he always had a peculiar feeling that there was something missing from it… something so large, yet so mysterious, that try as he might, he could not discern what it might be.
Mia Shonnette was Justin's lifelong best friend, and in many ways, she was very similar to him. They were the same age, and both had lived in Nodlin ever since they had been born. Mia's hair was jet-black, her eyes a light, almost transparent gray. Justin found her quite attractive, but they had never had anything serious going on together.
What they did have together, though, were marvelous times in the valley during their young days; roaming fields and forests, skipping stones across streams, climbing trees and swinging from branches, and sometimes merely sitting at their favorite spot by Sunset Lake, thinking about things peacefully while the whole world passed them by. Sometime later, when they were together in their old age, they would remember those good old times spent in Daneldune that would then seem so long ago; times when you came home to eat and sleep, but otherwise the wilderness was your home. Times when you explored somewhere new each day, when you were assured things would go on as they were forever and ever…. Those extraordinary, dream- filled days when they were children and the entirety of life was their play land. It was fair to them then, and it expected nothing in return.
In the fading orange sunlight of a warm June evening, Justin Taylor and Mia Shonnette sat beside one another on a small hill overlooking the gleaming Sunset Lake below them, highlighted with brilliant pools of shimmering light. The late spring wind swept over the gallant meadows of the valley, playing with their hair and serving as a lift to the swooping eventide birds far above. They had come to the lake as they had almost every night hitherto, to watch the sun sink below the western tips of the Wind Range in a burning glow of orange fire.
The few birds flying over the lake let out their last calls for the day, sailing across the colorful sky with a romantic gracefulness that was too elegant to perceive without becoming a bit teary-eyed. Justin and Mia sat and watched while the sun completed its trip behind the mountains and went to look down upon other lands, and the first spring stars began to peep out from the darkening sky.
All the while they did not speak very much, for now came the time when that same thought—a most wonderful thought—a sorrowful yet truly beautiful notion, began to once again take an ethereal shape and weave through their minds with a dream-like stillness, and Mia leaned on Justin's shoulder, letting it interlace on its flight of fancy through their souls. It was the thought, the wish, the dream; the dream that perhaps somehow, some way, life could continue as it was forever and ever, on through the ages…. Nevertheless, always following swiftly behind that concept of wishful thinking was the inevitable truth, and it pierced their desires like a cold knife.
They sat there for some time longer, heads tilted back to take in as much of the sky as their eyes would allow. And oh, what a sky. Just as it always had been, it was beautiful now—one of the few things that never lost any of its splendor no matter how many countless hours they spent looking upon it. Presently the slowly waxing moon was approaching its zenith, all the stars were beginning to shine forth, and then finally the comets began to streak in heavenly currents of effulgent silver. This was always their favorite part of the evening's natural showcase.
They continued to gaze, Mia still resting on Justin's shoulder, when the latter lifted his hand and delicately ran it through Mia's hair, then moved it down and gently rubbed her back. She smiled and looked at him; the reflection of the sky was in his bright eyes.
The comets were everywhere now, three or four bolting with sleek brilliance across the black expanse every second or so. Justin watched with a far-off look in the eyes Mia was still glaring dreamily into, mesmerized with the loveliness of God's expanse of space.
"Justin…."
Suddenly the sound of Mia's gentle, clear voice sounded in his ear. It resonated beautifully, as it always had to him, but at present it held in it also a note of concern and what seemed to be—could it be?—sadness.
"Mia?" Justin answered, turning his gaze from the sky to meet her deep, penetrating gray eyes, which, he thought, were just as attractive. She only stared at him rather forlornly, those dazzling eyes glistening with all the light of the stars.
"I want it to stay like this forever too, Justin, you know," she said softly, adjusting her head's position on his shoulder and then casting her gaze forward, across the lake, and into the sky. He followed her line of sight. "I know we've got a few more years ahead of us until we're… you know—adults. But—I don't want to move on…."
Mia paused, but Justin did not respond to her right away. As his eyes wandered from star to comet to moon and all over again, a strange feeling arose somewhere deep within him, of utter despondency yet inexplicable gladness. A moment or so passed, and then all at once he wanted so badly to cry (he did not know whether it was from overwhelming happiness or sadness; perhaps it was because he could not decide between the two), but the tears would not form in his eyes. He looked at Mia, who he guessed felt just the same as him.
"I understand, Mia," Justin said at length. She did not look at him. "But there's no reason to—to think about it right now. We have our whole lives ahead of us, really. Not just a few years—"
"And you're planning on staying in Nodlin for that long?" Mia said shortly, lifting her head off his shoulder. She looked him squarely in the face, and it was then that both their tears began truly to form.
"Mia, no—you're right. I—I know we can't stay in Daneldune forever. That's not what I was saying."
"No, it wasn't, I know." Mia sighed and stared at the ground. A small tear escaped from one of her eyes, and she sighed again, going on after a deep breath. "We can't stay here. Not now, not forever, not anymore. Do you see what I'm saying?"
Justin did see, but he believed he did so reluctantly. He paused for a moment and looked hard at her, not knowing what to say. Then "Mia," he found, "are you implying we just leave? Just like that?"
She answered after several seconds. "I don't know what I'm implying, Justin," she rejoined, now looking out over the lake that held the reflection of the heavens above, "but what I do know is that by remaining here, in Nodlin, in Daneldune, we are—well, what are we living for? When you think about, I mean, what is there to live for, enclosed in this place?" Justin could see she was speaking with total sincerity. "When we were kids, it seemed our lives were all mountains and rivers and forests, but now… isn't it obvious that the real world is passing us by? I need adventure Justin, and I sure can't find it here."
Justin agreed with every word she had said; in fact, he had been thinking that same thing. He maintained his viewing of the arresting, star- dotted expanse spread out above him, his soul quivering with profound wonder, sadness, and romance. The words that he then spoke he later thought may have been spoken too quickly; in fact he did not even realize he had said them until several moments had passed. It was as if a thought he was too afraid to say aloud someone escaped his mind.
"Mia… then—then we'll leave."
She turned her head slowly towards him, her shoulder-length midnight hair flying serenely behind her. Her eyes lit up like they never had before, and for a moment it seemed to Justin that by looking into them he was viewing two skies at once, two gorgeous, beautiful skies. She smiled widely at him, every bit of her countenance ablaze with the spirit and excitement of high adventure. And then, right then and there, on a grassy hillside by the eastern shores of Sunset Lake, beneath the spectacular vault of heaven shining with a million burnished jewels and a frosty white full moon, Justin Taylor received his first sincere kiss.
The following night was June the fifteenth and was, simply put, as gorgeous as the last. Earlier that day a thick gray sheet of clouds had blocked out all view of the sky over the valley, though it had not rained but for a light drizzle when dawn had come nigh. Then, when evening had set it, the fresh wind from the south, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of the sea, had rolled back the clouds to reveal a sky just as embellished as it had been the night before.
That night the moon was unquestionably full, and it hung huge and bright over the sleepy abodes of Daneldune, surrounded on all sides by stars; a heavenly bed of sparkling sand. The comets were now gliding across the vast black expanse like rushing gray water from a vigorously leaping stream, and the breeze was light and cool, flying low over the fields outside of town and making the grass ripple like a yawning, gray-green sea under the snowy light cast from the moon.
Within the village of Nodlin, an ancient stone bridge lay across a long, low channel where, below, the Daneltap River flowed in silence. The sides of the channel were of stone and went down about eight feet in the area near the bridge. Down inside the canal on either side was a narrow strip of wet, sandy turf dotted with riverweeds and smooth round stones. It was in-between these two strips of land that the Daneltap flowed, now at one of its slenderest points.
As the time drew near to midnight, two figures clothed in dim gray traveling cloaks with hoods overshadowing their faces began to appear out of the gloom farther up the channel from the bridge. They conveyed large backpacks, walking quickly and silently along the dark crispy sand, keeping close to the wall on one side of the babbling river. In a minute or so they reached the darker shade of the bridge spanning the short space overhead, and there they halted and set down their packs for a moment.
By the side of the river, an old two-person rowboat had been harbored, tied to a bent, rusty stake that had been set deeply into the turf. One of the figures approached the small wooden vessel and untied it, while the other took up both packs, first one and then the other, and set them inside the boat. Then carefully, cautious not to make much sound, the two stepped aboard the creaking vessel, crouching low so as not to be seen.
They relaxed a bit once they were situated, and the cloaked one in the back of the boat took up the oars. The only sounds that could be heard were the gentle gurgling of the dark Daneltap, the distant serenity of crickets chirping up above, and the soft creaking of the little boat as it began to slide southward down the dark waterway, rocking gingerly from side to side.
For several minutes, nothing was said amongst the boat's occupants: they only continued to drift down the forthright Daneltap, sheltered by the walls of stone on both sides of them. On their way, they passed beneath one other bridge, and the air was still warm, if a bit stuffy; the night wind was passing overhead. Far above, the moon shone down on the river, and the boat's reflection danced on the water's steady surface.
Truly, there could not have been a better night for what they were presently undertaking, but behind the shadows that lay across their faces, the expressions they wore were blank. In one way, they were overwhelmed with joy to be on their way after so long a time, and never before had the consciousness of adventure been more animate in either of them. However, they were also apprehensive, for not only were they leaving their homes but the only lives they had ever known: about to enter a world where all was unfamiliar to them, and where not a shred of their future could be certain.
For how long the tiny boat traveled south down the slender river, none of them could be certain. Mia reckoned it had been almost an hour, while Justin guessed they had been along for only half that time. They were only sure that eventually, whether it was sixty minutes or thirty or more or less, the stone trench walls on either side of them began to gradually slope downwards and angle out, becoming lower and wider as they drifted on. Soon the walls ran down into the ground and disappeared altogether, and their little craft emerged into the night air.
The cold essence of the nighttime filled their senses, and they shivered as the wind swept down from the hills on their left and right, for they had grown accustomed to the warmer atmosphere inside the river pass. Mia pulled her cloak tightly around herself and drew her knees up beneath her chin. Justin rummaged in their supplies for a blanket and wrapped it around her. She looked at him with a smile of thanks, then closed her eyes and rested.
After a long while, the two of them looked back, and they saw now far away up the long river the dark outline of their town, illuminated by the light of the full moon. And behind that; far, far behind; stood the great black silhouettes of the Wind Range's noble northern peaks. For several moments longer, they gazed upon the familiar sight, but soon turned away lest sadness should overcome them.
And after they turned back to the south, away from their lives, family, and friends, and towards a new world wholly foreign to them, they never set foot in nor saw again the little town they called Nodlin for a long, long time to come.
In an hour's time or so, the river began to increase its speed, and as it did so, it began to widen and increase in depth. Justin sat in the rear of the boat leaning on his pack, himself now wrapped in a blanket, and shivering from the chilly wind. Mia was fast asleep in the bow, and Justin smiled at her. They were on their way, the both of them together.
Down the river their boat drifted for some time longer, until the banks on either side began to close in once more and the water once again became slow and lazy. Nodlin was long since out of sight, for the darkness behind them was far too thick to see through, and even if the sun had been out, they would have still been too far away to perceive it. But in front of them, the southern hills of the Wind Range were drawing nearer and nearer, and between a certain pair of them lay their escape from the Daneldune Valley.
Presently the time was approaching three o'clock in the morning, or so Justin estimated, and he was already feeling more than a little tired. He had spent most of the previous day planning with Mia, most of the night packing (since that had been too risky to undertake during the day), and there had been almost no time for even a little relaxation. Justin knew that if he didn't get some rest, he would soon fall asleep in the boat, and he certainly didn't want that to happen.
In a few minutes, Justin spotted a good spot to moor their tiny vessel temporarily, and picking up the oars, he steered the boat over to the right bank. There he gently nudged Mia awake, and both stepped out and drew the rowboat up onto land, then continued to drag it over the edge of a small mound down into a hollow so it would not be seen. As they were doing this, Mia pointed out that the dry hollow would also be an apt place to sleep, so she began unpacking the luggage while Justin returned to the riverbank. Here he took a few minutes to cover up any tracks they might have made while moving their boat away from the river.
Though the area of Daneldune they were now in was seldom traveled, Justin thought it necessary to erase any evidence that might arouse suspicion that might lead to their discovery. Once he and Mia reached the southern, more populated region of the valley, they wouldn't mind being seen, but as for now Justin wanted to play it safe. Anyone who sighted them now would undoubtedly have more than a few questions as to just what two children were doing out on the Daneldune Flats this far from a town, and neither Justin nor Mia would be in any mood to answer them. Their current goal, of course, was to leave Daneldune, and this is how they planned to accomplish it:
Once they arrived at Hastoll, probably around ten or eleven o'clock on the evening of this same day, they would put up for the night and then get an early start on the following morning. They had decided to sell their boat for what they could, set out on foot through The Gate, and then steer to the east around the cape of the Magenta Mountains until they reached the port town capital of Gradiena, the great City of Lights: Val- marran. When they reached this place, the whole eastern frontier of Gradiena would be spread before them, and beyond that—it made them literally quiver with anticipation just to think about it—beyond that would be other lands, lands full of danger and adventure; territories and nations and kingdoms they had only heard of in rumors and only seen in dreams. There would be mountains to climb, valleys to explore, deserts to cross, and forests to delve into. The thought of all this was very nearly more than they could take at the time, but one thing was for sure: it brought a smile to their faces as nothing else could ever do.
Justin returned to the hollow, where he found Mia had finished pitching the small tent they had brought with them. They hadn't much time for a real meal; nor did they need one; and they certainly could not risk a fire, so they extracted a couple of hardtack, jerky, and water rations from their stores. These were not exceedingly filling, but they were quite decent and gave the pair great content to be eating like adventurers while on a great journey. It was true—they were adventurers now, and though they did not know it, the journey they had set out on would soon unfold into a far greater quest than any they could ever imagine.
It was then—when they had finished eating and had begun to climb into the little tent and settle inside their warm sleeping bags—that the knowledge made itself clear in their minds. It was the knowledge that at last, at long, long last, they were finally on their way.
The full moon, the stars, and the seemingly non-ceasing comets were above them, the wide-open land all around them, and the uncertainties of impending adventures before them. Up until this day, it had been so hard to believe that they would ever embark upon a real expedition, one that would take them out of the valley, but now they knew it was really, truly happening. And that only meant they went to sleep even happier than before.
The next morning dawned bright and early, but it wasn't until noon was getting on that Justin and Mia awoke from their contented slumber. Fortunately, it was far warmer than the previous night, and the sky was blue and clear. After a hasty meal, they hauled the boat back to the water's edge, loaded their small quantity of supplies onto it, and hit the river once more.
As the day went on, Justin and Mia found their journey downstream considerably more enjoyable than it had been before. The sun shone down on the fine waters of the River Daneltap, and all about them, the tree-dotted land was wide and green and flowing. The southernmost peaks of the Wind Range were growing taller and looming nearer: it looked as if they would be able to reach them, at the river's now quickening pace, in less than nine hours.
Justin steered the boat downriver, and he and Mia talked long into the day about things they were planning on doing in the future—at Hastoll and at Val-marran. The trip down the Daneltap was plain and comparatively uneventful, but the beauty of the country and the ever- present enthusiasm within the young travelers kept them rowing on, devoid even of a trace of boredom.
After a time, Justin withdrew from a special pouch his venerated sweet-potato ocarina, and it shone in the June sunlight like a vivid emerald. Mia's eyes lit up upon seeing it, for up until now she had not thought about singing, though it had been one of her favorite things to do back in Nodlin. She looked at Justin with a quiet smile, and he nodded at her and began to play.
Mia recognized the melody at once, and she waited for the introduction to end before she began singing the first verse. The song was powerful and yearning; it spoke of things far away and times long forgotten. Justin marveled at Mia's voice: high, clear, and simply astounding. His fingers danced over the indentations of the verdant instrument, creating air flavored with the miracle of sound. They performed an expansive range of songs, some sad and slow, others merry and upbeat, still others compelling and mysterious. Justin played from his heart, Mia sang from hers, and the notes of each floated into the air, where they found one another, intertwined, and created exquisite melodies of love, romance, and adventure.
Occasionally the two would pause for a break and stare at the passing scenery in admirable silence. Often a sigh or two would escape them as they thought of all the marvels their music spoke of, but it only made them want to sing and play more: to hear the songs and allow the words to paint awe-inspiring images in the depths of their minds. It wasn't until the sun had departed behind the dark hills far to their right that they laid their music-making skills to rest for the day.
The moon now hung in the sky, large and almost full, like a bright ebony Christmas ornament amongst invisible branches strung with gray sparkling lights. The scent of the fragrant herbs that grew along their current riverside area filled their noses with a sharp, tingling scent. The trickle of the water on all sides of them was peaceful and relaxing. Tonight would be another quiet night along the Daneltap River.
Suddenly Mia sprang up from her seated position in the rear of the boat. The tiny vessel protested by creaking loudly into the night and teetering unevenly in the dark water. Justin instinctively grasped both sides of the rowboat for stability, looking up past his hood at Mia as the boat settled down.
"Mia, what—"
"There it is!" she mused, and thrust a finger dead ahead. Justin followed her gesture with his eyes, and sure enough, there it was. Between the great black arms of two mountains, a grand city was positioned, lit all over by the spirited glow of a myriad of torches and lamps. The sight was cheerful and inviting, and Justin's face opened into a wide grin upon the sight of it. At last, Hastoll was in view.
They gazed at the town—far larger than they had pictured it, for no, they had never seen it—for several moments longer, and then faced one another. Both were smiling contently, demonstrating that the first step of their journey together was almost complete. Justin and Mia heaved a sigh of relief, and shared a long embrace together in their small boat.
At half-past ten on the still spring evening of May the seventh, an old wooden rowboat drifted up to a small dock in a dark back harbor of Daneldune's capital. A boy stepped up onto the firm wood and, taking his female companion by the hand, helped her up beside him. Their two bags of luggage were removed and slung over their shoulders, and the boat was tied and left sitting on the water where it was. Then together the two walked side-by-side down the wharf and into the city.
As for what they could see, there was no one around the same docking area as they, although there were a few small fishing boats harbored beside theirs. They could tell that the town area lay close ahead of them because of the glow from just over the hill; down the wooden walkway, across a short field, and then over the slope.
It was in this way that Justin Taylor and Mia Shonnette started off, following a worn stone path in the dark, sweet-smelling grass on either side of them. The bright glow of the sleepless city just over the lip of the hill seemed to rise and grow clearer as they approached. A few moments later, they were standing atop the shadowy prominence, surveying the immense town spread out before them with wide-eyed wonder.
Chapter II
Hastoll