Thirteen and a half years later..
The bird soared on widespread wings above the town, coasting on air currents, free to go wherever it pleased, its' joy infectious, liberating.
"'Ey, quit daydreamin' and clean the table!" Dara jumped, startled out of her reverie by the harsh voice of her stepfather. The burly, ugly man slammed a meaty fist down on the bar's counter and pointed to the filthy rag dangling from Dara's hand. "Wash, or I'll take a switch to ye!" Frantically, the tall thirteen year old scrubbed at the pitted wooden surface, blowing tangled red hair out of her eyes.
Life with brewmaster Orsin had been a living hell since Dara's mother had died of a fever two years ago. The prospering owner of the Mule and Cart inn, Gurit had been a smart businesswoman, maintaining a reputation for good food and cheap beds. That was until Orsin had come to the small town of Glensfarr, claiming to be a celebrated brewmaster from Haven. Dara's mother had been swept off her feet by the falsely charming man, and had turned the Mule and Cart into a joint venture. However, that winter Gurit was the first of many to sicken and die of a fever that swept through town, probably carried by a traveler on the nearby White Foal pass. Dara's beloved eight year old brother had also died, leaving Dara heartsick and lonely. Soon after, Dara's older sister had run away with a minstrel's caravan, after confiding to her sister that Orsin had been repeatedly raping her. "Get out, soon!" Dara's sister told her "You're no longer safe here!" tears in her eyes, Dara's sister had hugged her "You're strong, whatever happens, you'll be okay. Just trust in the Gods."
Orsin had not yet laid a hand on Dara, but repeatedly vented his verbal rage on her, blaming her for everything from spoiled produce to a steady loss of customers. Maybe, Dara thought bitterly, it was because the beds were infested with lice, and the beer smelled like a privy. Only the most desperate of travelers would stay at the Mule and Cart now.
"Getcher skinny behind over here, and dump the garbage!" Orsin thundered, lighting the stinking tallow lanterns in anticipation for the night's customers, if there were any. Wincing away from Orsin, Dara hurried into the cramped kitchen and grabbed the greasy pan containing congealed fat and other food refuse.
Gratefully, she pushed open the back door that lead into the alleyway, letting slightly fresher fall air into the Mule and Cart. As usual, Dog was there, waiting for her. Like all towns, Glensfarr had its' share of half- feral mongrels who raided alleyways in search of food. One night, while hiding from Orsin, Dara had been cornered in the alley by a slobbering, growling mastiff type hound. Terrified, Dara had thrown the meat pie she held at the beast. Dog had bolted the food, and wagged his mangy tail. Dara was overcome with a sense of warm gratitude coming from the animal. Since then, Dog had faithfully waited at the back door for the daily garbage. Often, Dara stopped to talk to the animal, sharing her secret fears with her mute friend.
Dog licked at the mess that landed on the packed dirt outside the door, and gave a silly canine grin. Dara grinned back, before her stepfather's frightful bellows brought her back into the kitchen.
The night dragged on, with only two customers showing up, an elderly, toothless man with the twitchy look of a thief, and a fat wool merchant who quickly got sloppy drunk on Orsin's bad ale. Orsin spent quite a lot of time talking with the merchant, and near closing time, pointed at Dara and whispered into Orsin's ear, drawing out a worn leather purse.
"Dara, sweetling, come here please." Orsin called. Instantly, Dara's muscles tensed, Orsin had never, ever called his stepdaughter 'sweetling.' Trembling, Dara walked over to Orsin and the merchant. "I'd like you to meet Hondell." Orsin shoved Dara none to gently towards the leering man. "I'd like you to take him upstairs and show him where the beds are."
Knees weak with dread, Dara croaked "Please follow me, sir." She made her way up the groaning wooden staircase, the drunk wobbling behind her. They entered into a small, low attic, where mildewed straw mattresses were strewn on the floor. "If you don't need anything else, I'll take my leave." Dara said, heading for the stairs.
With surprising quickness, Hondell blocked Dara's exit. "Oh, I needsh someting else." He brought his pockmarked face close to Dara's, his breath reeked of onion and beer.
Roughly, he shoved Dara down to the cold stone floor, her head striking the floor, stunning her. When the stars cleared from her vision, Hondell had removed his shirt, and was fumbling with his belt. Dara screamed, wailing in pure terror as Hondell pulled his breaches down, revealing his loins. "We gunna have fun!" he slurred, ripping at Dara's linen smock.
Suddenly, with a terrifying growl, a brown shape streaked from the stairs and by Dara, heading for Hondell. The merchant bellowed in agony as Dog sank his teeth into Hondell's half-erect manhood. Blood splattered on the floor as Dog placed himself between Dara and her assailant, snarling and snapping. Weak with relief, Dara gathered her smock to her exposed body. She had no idea how Dog had gotten in, but she was immensely glad he was there.
Orsin thundered up the stairs, a rusty pitchfork in hand. Dog howled as the tines pierced his ribs, slamming him to the floor. Dara screamed, the animal's agony flooded her mind. It was too much, her vision swam, and she was pulled down into darkness, Dog's dying moans ringing in her ears.
A warm autumn breeze flew gently over Companion's field, sending brightly colored leaves twirling in its' wake. Companions galloped up and down the field in high spirits, white manes and tails fluttering like banners. At the edge of a shallow pond, two young stallions splashed playfully, the sun turning the water droplets on their coats into rainbow hues.
Tiring of the game, one of the stallions turned and walked away. His brother followed, trotting to catch up with him. : What's the matter? Don't you feel like playing? : Shilah Mindspoke. The other stallion turned around and looked at Shilah.
: Not really.: Tynan replied. :I don't know why, but I just feel kind of. restless, for some reason.: Tynan looked up, the cloudless sky mirrored in his eyes. :Maybe go see Rolan in the Grove?: Shilah nudged his brother. :I've been told he gives good advice. I mean, even as Companions, we don't have all the answers.:
Tynan bobbed his head :Thanks, I'll do that. See you back at the stables.: Quickening his pace to a canter, Tynan turned towards the Grove. While not on duty, Rolan could most often be found there, meditating.
Pine needles crunched underhoof as Tynan paced through the undergrowth. The Grove was cool and silent, but had an aura of great age and spiritual power. Standing in a clearing, the ageless Companion Rolan stood still as a marble statue, head raised to the sun.
:Greetings, young Tynan.: Rolan Mindspoke. :Greetings, Rolan: Tynan replied, a little in awe.
:There is much on your mind: Rolan's voice was a statement, not a question. :Yes.: Tynan sighed :Although I love Companion's field and our Heralds, more and more these days, I have been feeling restless, like I want to get out into the world and explore.:
Rolan chuckled :You are feeling the Calling, young Companion. Your Chosen is out there somewhere in this vast world, and you must set out to find him or her. Only then will you feel complete.:
Tynan's sapphire eyes widened as he realized the truth in Rolan's words. :Thank you for the advice, I shall set out at sunset.:
:Brightest Blessings to you and be careful, my son: Rolan replied as he watched Tynan trot away.
Mind filled with purpose, Tynan almost bumped straight into Charisse. The mare snorted affectionately at the Companion she had raised as her son. :Watch where you're going, young rip. What is the matter?:
:I need to go and find my Chosen: Tynan's eyes were filled with resolve. Charisse rubbed her velvet nose against Tynan's cheek. :Then go, and fulfill your destiny: :I will miss you, Charisse: Tynan choked :I will miss you too, return to me safely: Charisse's eyes held all the love in the world for the strong young Companion who had come to her one stormy night as a cold, frightened newborn foal so many years ago.
Resolutely, Tynan entered the stable, where a young stablehand was mending a harness. The look in Tynan's eyes was as clear as a verbal command. Putting aside her work, the girl fetched a new saddle, bridle, and harness set of blue leather, adorned with tiny silver bells. Carefully, she tacked up the Companion, receiving a gentle nudge as thanks. Then, as the sun sank slowly in a glorious fall sunset, Tynan pounded away from the Collegium into the streets of Haven, to begin his search.
The bird soared on widespread wings above the town, coasting on air currents, free to go wherever it pleased, its' joy infectious, liberating.
"'Ey, quit daydreamin' and clean the table!" Dara jumped, startled out of her reverie by the harsh voice of her stepfather. The burly, ugly man slammed a meaty fist down on the bar's counter and pointed to the filthy rag dangling from Dara's hand. "Wash, or I'll take a switch to ye!" Frantically, the tall thirteen year old scrubbed at the pitted wooden surface, blowing tangled red hair out of her eyes.
Life with brewmaster Orsin had been a living hell since Dara's mother had died of a fever two years ago. The prospering owner of the Mule and Cart inn, Gurit had been a smart businesswoman, maintaining a reputation for good food and cheap beds. That was until Orsin had come to the small town of Glensfarr, claiming to be a celebrated brewmaster from Haven. Dara's mother had been swept off her feet by the falsely charming man, and had turned the Mule and Cart into a joint venture. However, that winter Gurit was the first of many to sicken and die of a fever that swept through town, probably carried by a traveler on the nearby White Foal pass. Dara's beloved eight year old brother had also died, leaving Dara heartsick and lonely. Soon after, Dara's older sister had run away with a minstrel's caravan, after confiding to her sister that Orsin had been repeatedly raping her. "Get out, soon!" Dara's sister told her "You're no longer safe here!" tears in her eyes, Dara's sister had hugged her "You're strong, whatever happens, you'll be okay. Just trust in the Gods."
Orsin had not yet laid a hand on Dara, but repeatedly vented his verbal rage on her, blaming her for everything from spoiled produce to a steady loss of customers. Maybe, Dara thought bitterly, it was because the beds were infested with lice, and the beer smelled like a privy. Only the most desperate of travelers would stay at the Mule and Cart now.
"Getcher skinny behind over here, and dump the garbage!" Orsin thundered, lighting the stinking tallow lanterns in anticipation for the night's customers, if there were any. Wincing away from Orsin, Dara hurried into the cramped kitchen and grabbed the greasy pan containing congealed fat and other food refuse.
Gratefully, she pushed open the back door that lead into the alleyway, letting slightly fresher fall air into the Mule and Cart. As usual, Dog was there, waiting for her. Like all towns, Glensfarr had its' share of half- feral mongrels who raided alleyways in search of food. One night, while hiding from Orsin, Dara had been cornered in the alley by a slobbering, growling mastiff type hound. Terrified, Dara had thrown the meat pie she held at the beast. Dog had bolted the food, and wagged his mangy tail. Dara was overcome with a sense of warm gratitude coming from the animal. Since then, Dog had faithfully waited at the back door for the daily garbage. Often, Dara stopped to talk to the animal, sharing her secret fears with her mute friend.
Dog licked at the mess that landed on the packed dirt outside the door, and gave a silly canine grin. Dara grinned back, before her stepfather's frightful bellows brought her back into the kitchen.
The night dragged on, with only two customers showing up, an elderly, toothless man with the twitchy look of a thief, and a fat wool merchant who quickly got sloppy drunk on Orsin's bad ale. Orsin spent quite a lot of time talking with the merchant, and near closing time, pointed at Dara and whispered into Orsin's ear, drawing out a worn leather purse.
"Dara, sweetling, come here please." Orsin called. Instantly, Dara's muscles tensed, Orsin had never, ever called his stepdaughter 'sweetling.' Trembling, Dara walked over to Orsin and the merchant. "I'd like you to meet Hondell." Orsin shoved Dara none to gently towards the leering man. "I'd like you to take him upstairs and show him where the beds are."
Knees weak with dread, Dara croaked "Please follow me, sir." She made her way up the groaning wooden staircase, the drunk wobbling behind her. They entered into a small, low attic, where mildewed straw mattresses were strewn on the floor. "If you don't need anything else, I'll take my leave." Dara said, heading for the stairs.
With surprising quickness, Hondell blocked Dara's exit. "Oh, I needsh someting else." He brought his pockmarked face close to Dara's, his breath reeked of onion and beer.
Roughly, he shoved Dara down to the cold stone floor, her head striking the floor, stunning her. When the stars cleared from her vision, Hondell had removed his shirt, and was fumbling with his belt. Dara screamed, wailing in pure terror as Hondell pulled his breaches down, revealing his loins. "We gunna have fun!" he slurred, ripping at Dara's linen smock.
Suddenly, with a terrifying growl, a brown shape streaked from the stairs and by Dara, heading for Hondell. The merchant bellowed in agony as Dog sank his teeth into Hondell's half-erect manhood. Blood splattered on the floor as Dog placed himself between Dara and her assailant, snarling and snapping. Weak with relief, Dara gathered her smock to her exposed body. She had no idea how Dog had gotten in, but she was immensely glad he was there.
Orsin thundered up the stairs, a rusty pitchfork in hand. Dog howled as the tines pierced his ribs, slamming him to the floor. Dara screamed, the animal's agony flooded her mind. It was too much, her vision swam, and she was pulled down into darkness, Dog's dying moans ringing in her ears.
A warm autumn breeze flew gently over Companion's field, sending brightly colored leaves twirling in its' wake. Companions galloped up and down the field in high spirits, white manes and tails fluttering like banners. At the edge of a shallow pond, two young stallions splashed playfully, the sun turning the water droplets on their coats into rainbow hues.
Tiring of the game, one of the stallions turned and walked away. His brother followed, trotting to catch up with him. : What's the matter? Don't you feel like playing? : Shilah Mindspoke. The other stallion turned around and looked at Shilah.
: Not really.: Tynan replied. :I don't know why, but I just feel kind of. restless, for some reason.: Tynan looked up, the cloudless sky mirrored in his eyes. :Maybe go see Rolan in the Grove?: Shilah nudged his brother. :I've been told he gives good advice. I mean, even as Companions, we don't have all the answers.:
Tynan bobbed his head :Thanks, I'll do that. See you back at the stables.: Quickening his pace to a canter, Tynan turned towards the Grove. While not on duty, Rolan could most often be found there, meditating.
Pine needles crunched underhoof as Tynan paced through the undergrowth. The Grove was cool and silent, but had an aura of great age and spiritual power. Standing in a clearing, the ageless Companion Rolan stood still as a marble statue, head raised to the sun.
:Greetings, young Tynan.: Rolan Mindspoke. :Greetings, Rolan: Tynan replied, a little in awe.
:There is much on your mind: Rolan's voice was a statement, not a question. :Yes.: Tynan sighed :Although I love Companion's field and our Heralds, more and more these days, I have been feeling restless, like I want to get out into the world and explore.:
Rolan chuckled :You are feeling the Calling, young Companion. Your Chosen is out there somewhere in this vast world, and you must set out to find him or her. Only then will you feel complete.:
Tynan's sapphire eyes widened as he realized the truth in Rolan's words. :Thank you for the advice, I shall set out at sunset.:
:Brightest Blessings to you and be careful, my son: Rolan replied as he watched Tynan trot away.
Mind filled with purpose, Tynan almost bumped straight into Charisse. The mare snorted affectionately at the Companion she had raised as her son. :Watch where you're going, young rip. What is the matter?:
:I need to go and find my Chosen: Tynan's eyes were filled with resolve. Charisse rubbed her velvet nose against Tynan's cheek. :Then go, and fulfill your destiny: :I will miss you, Charisse: Tynan choked :I will miss you too, return to me safely: Charisse's eyes held all the love in the world for the strong young Companion who had come to her one stormy night as a cold, frightened newborn foal so many years ago.
Resolutely, Tynan entered the stable, where a young stablehand was mending a harness. The look in Tynan's eyes was as clear as a verbal command. Putting aside her work, the girl fetched a new saddle, bridle, and harness set of blue leather, adorned with tiny silver bells. Carefully, she tacked up the Companion, receiving a gentle nudge as thanks. Then, as the sun sank slowly in a glorious fall sunset, Tynan pounded away from the Collegium into the streets of Haven, to begin his search.
