_
Chapter 1
Awakening and Discovery
Dancing. Singing and dancing was the first thing that Everin heard when he woke up. Singing, dancing and the sound of merry people, conversing about things. That didn’t concern Everin in the slightest. What did concern him, was that this was his first memory. He knew that the sounds he heard was dancing and he knew that the bird he heard crying out was a Nightingale and he knew for sure his name was Everin, but he remembered nothing of himself, or anything else, that came behind this moment. His breathing became faster and he squeezed his eyes shut. Grasping the side of the small bed he was laying on, he rolled onto the floor, falling on his knees. A door to his right side opened.
“Oh, so you’re awake.” A plump young lady said, going over to one of the walls and pulling back a blind. Sunlight streamed into the room and Everin blinked quickly for a second. Then he realised something. One of his eyes, his left to be exact, was hard and rough, as the eyelid closed over it. He reached up and touched it. “Stop touching that. You’ll get it dirty.” The woman scolded him, while at the same time making his bed, which he crouched next to. He glanced at her and she put her hand to his forehead.
“That’s strange.” She muttered to herself.
“What’s strange?” The woman looked at him and he realised that the voice belonged to him. His voice.
“Oh, your fever is gone, broken, even though just a few hours ago you were at your worst.” She replied, going back to tidying up the room. “If you’re feeling better, you may want to join the guests.” She finished.
“What guests?” Everin asked, but he already knew the answer well before she answered. The guests were the dancing and singing folk, the merry people he had heard.
“What’s wrong today, with you? You are asking questions you knew before your fever set in.” She shook her head and bustled out the door. Everin sat down onto a stool in the corner of the room. A second later, the woman poked her head back in.
“You can come down, any time you want, Everin.” He nodded and she left. He immediately went over to the small tub at the other end of the room and looked in. He stumbled back, aghast. He had only one eye! He knocked over the stool, accidentally and then fell onto the neat bed. An emerald. His left eye was an emerald! He quickly fixed the bed sheets up and pondered. He had no recollection of the past, he was in the house of a lovely woman and his eye was an emerald. He closed his eyes, squeezed them shut and then opened them again. He darted to the small bath. Nothing had changed. He cried out in fear and anger, splashed the bath water and kicked the fallen stool. Then he crumpled into a heap on the floor, sobbing. A few minutes later, the young woman entered again.
“Everin? What is the matter?” She asked, setting the stool right and grabbing a cloth to mop up the spilt water. Everin just kept on sobbing. The woman put her arm around his shoulders, broad as they were.
“This is the matter.” Everin barked, pointing at his face. “I do not recognise it, all anything in this room. I awaken, as if being born and am aghast to find an emerald in my face.” The woman frowned.
“You don’t know me? Or yourself? Ill news this is. The fever must have addled your brain. Come, at once, let us go to the head magik man of the town. He will know what to do.”
Everin had thrown a long, warm coat on and he and the woman had hurried away.
“Do you remember your name?” She asked when they had travelled a short distance. Everin nodded. She frowned. “What about mine?” Everin racked his brain and then shook his head. She sighed. They turned another corner.
“It is Sarina. You have been like a brother to me.” She replied and when she spoke the last words, Everin felt a searing pain and his eye’s vision were clouded by a blinding white light. He held his head in agony, screaming.
Stone. All around him. A woman, not much younger then seventeen, stood before him.
“You are my brother, Everin. Do not leave me.” The beautiful girl muttered, stroking his face. He closed his eyes.
“I must, Katrina. I have to do this, for your sake and mine.” Everin turned and strode away, departing forever from the stone halls. The young girl wept bitterly.
Everin awoke in the mud. Sarina was shaking him, worried.
“Everin. Wake up. Everin.” She was repeating to herself, again and again. Everin groaned his head on fire. She smiled. “Thank the Gods. You are coming to.” She sighed. “Come. We must get you to Bartholin immediately.”
Everin rose to his feet, fist pushing against his head. He groaned in pain as the white light flashed quickly and then was gone. His head was clear again.
“Sarina.” Everin muttered. He remembered her face now, alongside another, an older memory. “Sarina. How long have I known you?” He questioned, as they hurried through the bright streets.
“You were found by my father, the Duke of Estmiuth, seven years ago. You had been attacked by wolves. You were seventeen years of age, as was I. Then, he raised you as a son.” She turned to him, still walking. “You remember none of this?” Everin shook his head.
“I remember your smiling face and someone else’s too. I think it was my sister, from before I left home. It was the last time I saw her, I think.” Everin said, deep in thought. He was pondering the memory he had seen and why he had none others.
“Here we are.” Sarina exclaimed, pointing at the dwelling in front of them. Everin looked at it, wondering if he had seen anything quiet like it before. Bits of animal pelts hung off the sides of the small red tent, while at the top flew a white and blue flag, with a green orb floating in the center. Sarina was beckoning for him at the flap of the tent and he entered beside her.
Dirt. Blood and dirt. That was the first thing that Midam saw when he woke up. It was caked to his face and his clothes and his sword, which lay beside him. He lay in mud and a soft rain pelted down, washing away the grim of the battle, slowly. Feeling rushed back to Midam’s body and his leg seemed to scream at him. He looked down and saw a gash, longer than his arm, winding its way down the front of his right leg. He groaned, touching the small slash on his forehead. He pulled himself up, careful not to put pressure on his wounded leg. Where was he?
His eyes glanced across the battlefield. His vision seemed to be cut off, as if he could only use one eye. The soft rain suddenly stopped.
‘Strange’ He thought and reached up to his right eye. Then he brought his hand down, quick as a flash. There was no eye there! Only a hard, cut rock. Midam touched the rock again. It wasn’t his imagination. And what had happened before this time? He bent down and tore a robe off a fallen soldier. Sitting on the blood stained turf and began to attend to his wounds, still in shock. Automatically, he bound his leg wound with a good and tight bandage, to stop the blood flow. He crawled to his feet and leant on the right leg. It didn’t pain him as much to walk on it now. He set off, across the battlefield, after collecting his sword from where it lay. Above him, the dawn was red, layered with a purple colour.
“Blood has been spilt this night.” Midam muttered to himself. He found his eye roving the battlefield. He saw off to the East, a large forest, deep and green. Off to the west a way, he picked out a large spine of mountains. He grimaced as his head wound bled anew.
Scurrying from body to body, Midam quickly found what he was looking for. A small medicine vial. It was no bigger than his fist and had a piercing green liquid in it.
“Asfaloth.” He muttered to himself. Suddenly, his head felt it was on fire and a blinding white dimmed his vision.
“Don’t ever forget my boy,” an old man said to Midam. “Asfaloth is a most potent potion. If you mix it with Cider of Hedberry, it becomes a wondrous healing remedy, especially for wounds.”
Midam awoke, head on the chest of a fallen soldier. The pain in his head was immense, as if he was putting his head into the fires of an erupting volcano. He quickly pulled the stopper out of the Asfaloth bottle and swilled it in one gulp. The pain seemed to recede immensely. He fell on all fours as another bright light flashed and then all pain was gone from his head. His leg began to feel better. Asfaloth was a fast working medicine.
Striding alone along the battlefield, Midam noticed that a cool breeze had sprung up from over the mountains. He revelled in the refreshing feel on his weary face. Passing a group of men that had fallen together, Midam halted. This soldier’s face seemed familiar. Almost. He continued on, now pondering about his loss of memory. It seemed nearly normal and he had all but forgotten it as he had cured his head and leg. And the memory of the old man, instructing him on Asfaloth. It seemed to Midam that he knew all the basic survival techniques of a soldier, such as the sword styles and the formations and tactics of battle, as well as which roots and berries to eat how to tend to wounds and sicknesses. All the things that had covered in training camp. Midam drew his sword as he walked. It was a plain sword, with a long hilt wrapped in brown cloth. The blade was just over two feet long and was sharpened professionally. The only thing that stood out from all the other swords Midam had seen was the ruby engraved in one side of the pommel. It seemed to be rough, but was smooth to the touch and glinted in the morning sunrise. On the other side, was a small slot, as big as the ruby on the other side. It was empty. Immediately, Midam’s hand sprang to his eye, the rock. It felt almost the same as the ruby in the sword. He swung the sword up and looked at his reflection in the sword. The stone was indeed a ruby. Midam, being a man of thought, reacted rather slowly. He just rubbed the ruby a little and kept walking. Why had the ruby been placed there, in the first place? How had it been put there? When? Why didn’t he remember anything? Anything at all. He swung his sword down, and slid it into its sheath. He strode on, passing piles of corpses now.
Sand. Water and sand was the first thing Julia felt when she woke up. Another wave of water rolled over her, momentarily blocking her view. She coughed, as the water receded. Now she could see the land ahead of her. The sun was rising behind her, shining on a dark, dense patch of forest. She dragged herself up the banks, sand shifting and falling onto her hands. Her long blonde hair was drenched and it clung to her shoulders. She coughed again and stopped crawling. She was on dry sand now and dirt as well. Rolling over, she saw that she had been on the edge of a rapidly flowing river. It split a little further down the way and she saw that dangerous rapids began there. She was lucky not to get stuck in them. How did she get into the water anyway? And where was she?
Realising that she didn’t know any of the answers of these, she panicked. She scrambled to her feet and jogged to the outskirts of the forest and lay against a tall oak tree. She put her head in her hands and cried. She knew nothing of herself, except her name and she knew nothing of the outside world. Who had she been? Where had she been?
She closed her eyes, to stop the tears and then it struck her. She had vision in only one eye. Her left. She panicked again and then leapt up and sprinted to the water’s edge. Glancing in, her fears were confirmed. She had only one eye. The other was a piercing blue sapphire. She kicked the water hard, as if that would solve everything. Turning to go back to the forest, she spotted a rucksack, drenched, lying with a longbow tied to it. She walked over to it, baffled. Were these hers?
“Of cause they were’ she thought to herself. These you remember, at least. She snatched the package up and flung it over her shoulder.
Julia marched up to the edge of the forest and sat down. She opened the top of the rucksack and emptied the contents. Inside was a pile of soggy papers and a dripping phoenix quill. She moved the sodden mass of papers aside and found a small bone knife and a brown pouch. Inside the pouch she found various dried fruits, some salted meat and some ruined biscuits. She went to put the pouch in one of her pockets and she noticed the garments she was wearing for the first time. She was wearing tight travelling leggings, a dark green colour. Her shirt was a loose fitting yellow one piece, stretching down to the edge of her pants. She had a golden-brown coloured belt, although it was made out of leather. She had a tight shift underneath all of this. Slipping the pouch into her one pocket, she went back to the contents of the rucksack. Inside, under everything else, were three shirts, all made of cotton and two more tight fitting pants, both dark green as well. She also found a group of arrows, tied together with a thin grey cord. She put these with the bow and then put everything back into the rucksack, minus the food pouch and arrows. She glanced around the river banks again, almost hoping for more possessions to be discovered. Nothing appeared and so she stood and walked into the dark forest.
Almost immediately, the sun disappeared from view and Julia became worried. She could barely see more than five feet in front of herself. What if there were wolves, or something worse, in the forest? Julia wrapped her arms around her and plunged on. Deep green ferns seemed to fold their arms around her and trees leaned over to see the intruder. The only sign of life Julia saw was a lone possum, which bounded across the path. She watched it leap away and she wished she could move that fast. Every so often, Julia would rub her eye, which wasn’t actually an eye. She found that the sapphire seemed to be a perfect fit for her eye socket, even though it seemed out of place at the same time.
She tried to remember her home, or her family and friends, but nothing came to mind, however hard she thought.
She had just stepped over a fallen log, when her head began burning. She fell to the ground, rucksack dropping from her arm. There was a flash of piercing white light.
Julia sat at a table. An extravagant feast was laid before her and fourteen other people. One person stood up.
“We thank Throsudi, god of food and wine, for this meal, which is laid out before us. We also thank the Heavenly God, Maenadic, for bring us all here safely together, on this night of Junstyl.”
Everyone around the table picked up their cutlery as the man sat down. He turned to Julia, who sat next to him.
“How did you like that prayer, sweetest?” He asked. Julia realised this was her father.
“It was said well father, but you thanked only the food God and the Heavenly Father. Why not thank all the Gods at once?”
“Because,” Her father began, “Khaos is a God no one should pray to. Unfortunately for us all, some people, Evil Men and Urgens and Goblins, pray to him. You should never.” Julia’s father turned and began to chew a piece of pork that had been served to him.
“What about all the other Gods, father?” Julia said. “Why not pray to them?” She began to eat a leaf of lettuce as her father began talking.
“We could, but this isn’t the right situation to pray for all the Gods at once. We are only thanking the Gods for food and we always thank the Heavenly Father. This is the end of this discussion.” He turned away and began talking to the man on the other side of him. Julia swallowed her mouthful and was about to continue arguing with him, when her mother touched her arm.
“Leave it be, darling. He is stubborn about such things.” She said in a voice like honey.
Julia came to with her face in a patch of moss. She coughed it out and spat. She crawled over to her rucksack and as she did, a white light flashed and her head felt clear again. She stood up and saw three arrows pointing at her face!
By Isaac McIntyre
Awakening and Discovery
Dancing. Singing and dancing was the first thing that Everin heard when he woke up. Singing, dancing and the sound of merry people, conversing about things. That didn’t concern Everin in the slightest. What did concern him, was that this was his first memory. He knew that the sounds he heard was dancing and he knew that the bird he heard crying out was a Nightingale and he knew for sure his name was Everin, but he remembered nothing of himself, or anything else, that came behind this moment. His breathing became faster and he squeezed his eyes shut. Grasping the side of the small bed he was laying on, he rolled onto the floor, falling on his knees. A door to his right side opened.
“Oh, so you’re awake.” A plump young lady said, going over to one of the walls and pulling back a blind. Sunlight streamed into the room and Everin blinked quickly for a second. Then he realised something. One of his eyes, his left to be exact, was hard and rough, as the eyelid closed over it. He reached up and touched it. “Stop touching that. You’ll get it dirty.” The woman scolded him, while at the same time making his bed, which he crouched next to. He glanced at her and she put her hand to his forehead.
“That’s strange.” She muttered to herself.
“What’s strange?” The woman looked at him and he realised that the voice belonged to him. His voice.
“Oh, your fever is gone, broken, even though just a few hours ago you were at your worst.” She replied, going back to tidying up the room. “If you’re feeling better, you may want to join the guests.” She finished.
“What guests?” Everin asked, but he already knew the answer well before she answered. The guests were the dancing and singing folk, the merry people he had heard.
“What’s wrong today, with you? You are asking questions you knew before your fever set in.” She shook her head and bustled out the door. Everin sat down onto a stool in the corner of the room. A second later, the woman poked her head back in.
“You can come down, any time you want, Everin.” He nodded and she left. He immediately went over to the small tub at the other end of the room and looked in. He stumbled back, aghast. He had only one eye! He knocked over the stool, accidentally and then fell onto the neat bed. An emerald. His left eye was an emerald! He quickly fixed the bed sheets up and pondered. He had no recollection of the past, he was in the house of a lovely woman and his eye was an emerald. He closed his eyes, squeezed them shut and then opened them again. He darted to the small bath. Nothing had changed. He cried out in fear and anger, splashed the bath water and kicked the fallen stool. Then he crumpled into a heap on the floor, sobbing. A few minutes later, the young woman entered again.
“Everin? What is the matter?” She asked, setting the stool right and grabbing a cloth to mop up the spilt water. Everin just kept on sobbing. The woman put her arm around his shoulders, broad as they were.
“This is the matter.” Everin barked, pointing at his face. “I do not recognise it, all anything in this room. I awaken, as if being born and am aghast to find an emerald in my face.” The woman frowned.
“You don’t know me? Or yourself? Ill news this is. The fever must have addled your brain. Come, at once, let us go to the head magik man of the town. He will know what to do.”
Everin had thrown a long, warm coat on and he and the woman had hurried away.
“Do you remember your name?” She asked when they had travelled a short distance. Everin nodded. She frowned. “What about mine?” Everin racked his brain and then shook his head. She sighed. They turned another corner.
“It is Sarina. You have been like a brother to me.” She replied and when she spoke the last words, Everin felt a searing pain and his eye’s vision were clouded by a blinding white light. He held his head in agony, screaming.
Stone. All around him. A woman, not much younger then seventeen, stood before him.
“You are my brother, Everin. Do not leave me.” The beautiful girl muttered, stroking his face. He closed his eyes.
“I must, Katrina. I have to do this, for your sake and mine.” Everin turned and strode away, departing forever from the stone halls. The young girl wept bitterly.
Everin awoke in the mud. Sarina was shaking him, worried.
“Everin. Wake up. Everin.” She was repeating to herself, again and again. Everin groaned his head on fire. She smiled. “Thank the Gods. You are coming to.” She sighed. “Come. We must get you to Bartholin immediately.”
Everin rose to his feet, fist pushing against his head. He groaned in pain as the white light flashed quickly and then was gone. His head was clear again.
“Sarina.” Everin muttered. He remembered her face now, alongside another, an older memory. “Sarina. How long have I known you?” He questioned, as they hurried through the bright streets.
“You were found by my father, the Duke of Estmiuth, seven years ago. You had been attacked by wolves. You were seventeen years of age, as was I. Then, he raised you as a son.” She turned to him, still walking. “You remember none of this?” Everin shook his head.
“I remember your smiling face and someone else’s too. I think it was my sister, from before I left home. It was the last time I saw her, I think.” Everin said, deep in thought. He was pondering the memory he had seen and why he had none others.
“Here we are.” Sarina exclaimed, pointing at the dwelling in front of them. Everin looked at it, wondering if he had seen anything quiet like it before. Bits of animal pelts hung off the sides of the small red tent, while at the top flew a white and blue flag, with a green orb floating in the center. Sarina was beckoning for him at the flap of the tent and he entered beside her.
Dirt. Blood and dirt. That was the first thing that Midam saw when he woke up. It was caked to his face and his clothes and his sword, which lay beside him. He lay in mud and a soft rain pelted down, washing away the grim of the battle, slowly. Feeling rushed back to Midam’s body and his leg seemed to scream at him. He looked down and saw a gash, longer than his arm, winding its way down the front of his right leg. He groaned, touching the small slash on his forehead. He pulled himself up, careful not to put pressure on his wounded leg. Where was he?
His eyes glanced across the battlefield. His vision seemed to be cut off, as if he could only use one eye. The soft rain suddenly stopped.
‘Strange’ He thought and reached up to his right eye. Then he brought his hand down, quick as a flash. There was no eye there! Only a hard, cut rock. Midam touched the rock again. It wasn’t his imagination. And what had happened before this time? He bent down and tore a robe off a fallen soldier. Sitting on the blood stained turf and began to attend to his wounds, still in shock. Automatically, he bound his leg wound with a good and tight bandage, to stop the blood flow. He crawled to his feet and leant on the right leg. It didn’t pain him as much to walk on it now. He set off, across the battlefield, after collecting his sword from where it lay. Above him, the dawn was red, layered with a purple colour.
“Blood has been spilt this night.” Midam muttered to himself. He found his eye roving the battlefield. He saw off to the East, a large forest, deep and green. Off to the west a way, he picked out a large spine of mountains. He grimaced as his head wound bled anew.
Scurrying from body to body, Midam quickly found what he was looking for. A small medicine vial. It was no bigger than his fist and had a piercing green liquid in it.
“Asfaloth.” He muttered to himself. Suddenly, his head felt it was on fire and a blinding white dimmed his vision.
“Don’t ever forget my boy,” an old man said to Midam. “Asfaloth is a most potent potion. If you mix it with Cider of Hedberry, it becomes a wondrous healing remedy, especially for wounds.”
Midam awoke, head on the chest of a fallen soldier. The pain in his head was immense, as if he was putting his head into the fires of an erupting volcano. He quickly pulled the stopper out of the Asfaloth bottle and swilled it in one gulp. The pain seemed to recede immensely. He fell on all fours as another bright light flashed and then all pain was gone from his head. His leg began to feel better. Asfaloth was a fast working medicine.
Striding alone along the battlefield, Midam noticed that a cool breeze had sprung up from over the mountains. He revelled in the refreshing feel on his weary face. Passing a group of men that had fallen together, Midam halted. This soldier’s face seemed familiar. Almost. He continued on, now pondering about his loss of memory. It seemed nearly normal and he had all but forgotten it as he had cured his head and leg. And the memory of the old man, instructing him on Asfaloth. It seemed to Midam that he knew all the basic survival techniques of a soldier, such as the sword styles and the formations and tactics of battle, as well as which roots and berries to eat how to tend to wounds and sicknesses. All the things that had covered in training camp. Midam drew his sword as he walked. It was a plain sword, with a long hilt wrapped in brown cloth. The blade was just over two feet long and was sharpened professionally. The only thing that stood out from all the other swords Midam had seen was the ruby engraved in one side of the pommel. It seemed to be rough, but was smooth to the touch and glinted in the morning sunrise. On the other side, was a small slot, as big as the ruby on the other side. It was empty. Immediately, Midam’s hand sprang to his eye, the rock. It felt almost the same as the ruby in the sword. He swung the sword up and looked at his reflection in the sword. The stone was indeed a ruby. Midam, being a man of thought, reacted rather slowly. He just rubbed the ruby a little and kept walking. Why had the ruby been placed there, in the first place? How had it been put there? When? Why didn’t he remember anything? Anything at all. He swung his sword down, and slid it into its sheath. He strode on, passing piles of corpses now.
Sand. Water and sand was the first thing Julia felt when she woke up. Another wave of water rolled over her, momentarily blocking her view. She coughed, as the water receded. Now she could see the land ahead of her. The sun was rising behind her, shining on a dark, dense patch of forest. She dragged herself up the banks, sand shifting and falling onto her hands. Her long blonde hair was drenched and it clung to her shoulders. She coughed again and stopped crawling. She was on dry sand now and dirt as well. Rolling over, she saw that she had been on the edge of a rapidly flowing river. It split a little further down the way and she saw that dangerous rapids began there. She was lucky not to get stuck in them. How did she get into the water anyway? And where was she?
Realising that she didn’t know any of the answers of these, she panicked. She scrambled to her feet and jogged to the outskirts of the forest and lay against a tall oak tree. She put her head in her hands and cried. She knew nothing of herself, except her name and she knew nothing of the outside world. Who had she been? Where had she been?
She closed her eyes, to stop the tears and then it struck her. She had vision in only one eye. Her left. She panicked again and then leapt up and sprinted to the water’s edge. Glancing in, her fears were confirmed. She had only one eye. The other was a piercing blue sapphire. She kicked the water hard, as if that would solve everything. Turning to go back to the forest, she spotted a rucksack, drenched, lying with a longbow tied to it. She walked over to it, baffled. Were these hers?
“Of cause they were’ she thought to herself. These you remember, at least. She snatched the package up and flung it over her shoulder.
Julia marched up to the edge of the forest and sat down. She opened the top of the rucksack and emptied the contents. Inside was a pile of soggy papers and a dripping phoenix quill. She moved the sodden mass of papers aside and found a small bone knife and a brown pouch. Inside the pouch she found various dried fruits, some salted meat and some ruined biscuits. She went to put the pouch in one of her pockets and she noticed the garments she was wearing for the first time. She was wearing tight travelling leggings, a dark green colour. Her shirt was a loose fitting yellow one piece, stretching down to the edge of her pants. She had a golden-brown coloured belt, although it was made out of leather. She had a tight shift underneath all of this. Slipping the pouch into her one pocket, she went back to the contents of the rucksack. Inside, under everything else, were three shirts, all made of cotton and two more tight fitting pants, both dark green as well. She also found a group of arrows, tied together with a thin grey cord. She put these with the bow and then put everything back into the rucksack, minus the food pouch and arrows. She glanced around the river banks again, almost hoping for more possessions to be discovered. Nothing appeared and so she stood and walked into the dark forest.
Almost immediately, the sun disappeared from view and Julia became worried. She could barely see more than five feet in front of herself. What if there were wolves, or something worse, in the forest? Julia wrapped her arms around her and plunged on. Deep green ferns seemed to fold their arms around her and trees leaned over to see the intruder. The only sign of life Julia saw was a lone possum, which bounded across the path. She watched it leap away and she wished she could move that fast. Every so often, Julia would rub her eye, which wasn’t actually an eye. She found that the sapphire seemed to be a perfect fit for her eye socket, even though it seemed out of place at the same time.
She tried to remember her home, or her family and friends, but nothing came to mind, however hard she thought.
She had just stepped over a fallen log, when her head began burning. She fell to the ground, rucksack dropping from her arm. There was a flash of piercing white light.
Julia sat at a table. An extravagant feast was laid before her and fourteen other people. One person stood up.
“We thank Throsudi, god of food and wine, for this meal, which is laid out before us. We also thank the Heavenly God, Maenadic, for bring us all here safely together, on this night of Junstyl.”
Everyone around the table picked up their cutlery as the man sat down. He turned to Julia, who sat next to him.
“How did you like that prayer, sweetest?” He asked. Julia realised this was her father.
“It was said well father, but you thanked only the food God and the Heavenly Father. Why not thank all the Gods at once?”
“Because,” Her father began, “Khaos is a God no one should pray to. Unfortunately for us all, some people, Evil Men and Urgens and Goblins, pray to him. You should never.” Julia’s father turned and began to chew a piece of pork that had been served to him.
“What about all the other Gods, father?” Julia said. “Why not pray to them?” She began to eat a leaf of lettuce as her father began talking.
“We could, but this isn’t the right situation to pray for all the Gods at once. We are only thanking the Gods for food and we always thank the Heavenly Father. This is the end of this discussion.” He turned away and began talking to the man on the other side of him. Julia swallowed her mouthful and was about to continue arguing with him, when her mother touched her arm.
“Leave it be, darling. He is stubborn about such things.” She said in a voice like honey.
Julia came to with her face in a patch of moss. She coughed it out and spat. She crawled over to her rucksack and as she did, a white light flashed and her head felt clear again. She stood up and saw three arrows pointing at her face!
By Isaac McIntyre
