Translated From Sarconain Highway

Joshuel is practially purring.  He couldn't be more excited out this, especially since he didn't have to fight for it like before.

 

Melissa was surprised that her instructor during her Junior Scouthood was Joshuel Carzim.  Normally, Junior Scouts were placed under older Scouts.   Jonathan was often with Joshuel, however, and she suspected that if the council had approved Joshuel as her mentor, he was capable.  Besides, she had been noticing that the list of Scouts killed on missions was growing longer.  The Aranara were becoming more aggressive, and she had the feeling that the Council was trying to turn out Scouts as quickly as possible without interfering with the very exacting training.

Joshuel, for his part, often felt inadequate as Melissa's instructor, but he was always boosted by his brother.  He was also leveled out by Jonathan.  He and Melissa were rarely alone together, in acquiescence with the Scout Code of Conduct, but that didn't stop Joshuel from noticing that his childhood friend was growing more beautiful by the day, even when she smelled of woodsmoke and sweat, was covered in mud, and hadn't washed her hair in a week.  Her gentle presence and quick mind drew him to her like a magnet, and he was beginning to wonder if he wasn't enjoying her presence a little too much.

"Thane," Joshuel said to Jonathan, "I think it might be best if you took over Melissa's training."

"Why?" Jonathan asked.

"I'm attracted to Melissa.  Alot."

"I cannot take over her training," said Jonathan.  He held up a hand to stop his brother's protests.  "I have reasons for this.  However, Josh, I will arrange with the council for me to be sent on all of you and Melissa's missions.  That way, I'll be with you.  We'll stay at Scout Stations as much as possible."

Joshuel nodded.  "Alright."

 

Melissa glanced at her tutor, Joshuel Carzim, waiting to see what he made of the trail that she had found.

"They were moving very quickly," Joshuel murmured, scanning the tracks.  "Either they had someplace to go, or something frightened them."

Melissa looked around for other tracks, the tracks of whatever had scared the party they were tracking.  Then she saw it.  "J-Joshuel?" she said nervously, "Isn't that a Kraser track?"

Joshuel moved swiftly to her side.  "Yes, it is.  That's good that you recognized it.  So that's what scared the group...and it's chasing them.  Now what do we do?"  He looked carefully at at Melissa, waiting to see her reply although he was already laying plans for their next move.

"We follow it," said Melissa.  "But there's a problem."

"What is the problem?" asked Joshuel.

"Two problems, actually.  Kraser spiders are very big, very dangerous, and always very grumpy."

"Why do you think we're following it?" Joshuel said dryly.

"I-I'd rather not follow it actually," said Melissa in a small voice.  "I'd very much like it if we went the other way right now and never caught a glimpse of it."

"Is that the other problem?" Joshuel asked her gently.

Melissa nodded.

"Well, I'd rather not run into this creature myself, but we'll probably run into it with that group about, and there is strength in numbers."

"I suppose so," said Melissa, images of them combating the spider and dying spinning through her head.

"Courage, Lissa," said Joshuel, patting her shoulder.  "Let's go."

They trailed the spider and noted that the party it was chasing had split up.  They rode fast on the spider's trail now, and the tracks swiftly became fresher.  At last they burst into a clearing, drew rein, and dismounted.  "He may have hid in a thicket," said Joshuel, referring to the person that the spider was chasing.  "You check that thicket, I'll check this one."

They moved off, Melissa working hard to control her trembling.  Dawn, her unicorn, was very upset, and she knew that the spider was close by.  Slowly, she bent to peer into the thicket.

Joshuel glanced back at the nervous unicorns and bit his lip.  He was liking this situation less and less every second.  Jonathan, his older brother, was supposed to be following them, and Joshuel hoped he would show up soon.  Jonathan was two years older than Joshuel and considered very experienced by all the Scouts.  Suddenly, Melissa screamed.  Joshuel turned swiftly and saw her fleeing from the thicket across from him.

With a cracking of branches, the spider reared from its ambush, hissing.  It stood at about six feet tall and was covered in matted brown hair.  Its red eyes glared at them, and its fangs dripped green venom.  The unicorns reared and neighed frantically.   Wailing, Melissa flung herself against Joshuel, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest, frightened beyond reason.  The spider screamed at them, rearing, and began to advance.

Joshuel gasped for breath.  Melissa's hold on him was cutting off his breathing to an extent and she was screaming non-stop.  Joshuel grabbed for his bow, then realized that, with Melissa clinging to him, he would not be able to shoot with accuracy, if he could shoot at all.  "Melissa," he said earnestly, "Let go of me so I can shoot."

Melissa's terror was impenetrable.  She was rendered virtually deaf by her fear and continued to hang onto him with a death grip.  Joshuel began to try to forcibly detach Melissa, but the more he pulled at her, the more desperately she clung to him.  Joshuel's hands started shaking as he realized that the Kraser was almost upon them, and he would not be able to fight it.  Suddenly, an arrow hissed over his head and he knew that Jonathan was there.

Jonathan came to his brother's side, an arrow knocked on the string and held at half-draw.  "You get Melissa back to her senses," Jonathan said.  "I'll handle the spider."  He moved off and started shooting at the spider again.    At last, with a final hissing scream, it collapsed.

Melissa's screams slowly quieted, and she leaned against Joshuel, crying softly. Joshuel had put his arms around her and now rubbed her shoulders, soothing her.  "Is it gone?" she asked.

"It's dead," said Joshuel.

Melissa peeked out, caught a glimpse of the dead Kraser, cried out, and hid her face against Joshuel again.  Joshuel slowly pivoted and began sidestepping towards the spider.  Melissa went with him, not wanting to get close to the spider, but not wanting to let go of Joshuel's reassuring hold.  "Stop," she moaned.

Joshuel stopped about ten feet from the spider.  "Here, Lissa," he said,  "It can't hurt you."

Melissa peeked out again and didn't like the spider dead any more than she liked it alive.  "Yuck," she said in a mixture of fright and disgust.

Joshuel pushed her back from him and, taking her hand, led her over to the spider.  "You can touch it," he said, wanting her to face her fear and become familiar with it.

Not letting go of his hand, Melissa leaned towards the spider, touched the matted hair with a finger and recoiled with the shriek, flinging her arms around Joshuel again.  "I don't like it," she said.

Joshuel and Jonathan laughed softly at her response.  Joshuel glanced down at his clingy student and found that now that the danger was gone, he didn't mind hugging her so much.  In fact, he realized, a little surprised by the revelation, he was rather enjoying it.  Slowly, he urged her to touch the spider again.  She reached out and put her hand on it before jumping back and hiding behind him.

Slowly, she became more accustomed to the creature and no longer screamed and hid behind the boys at the sight of it.  Its presence was enough to make her flinch, but that did not concern Joshuel.  Kraser spiders were extremely dangerous and a fear of them was actually a healthy thing, so long as it did not get out of hand.

 

They stayed at White Rocks Scout Station that night.  Joshuel talked to some other Scouts who told him that the Kraser population was getting out of hand and the spiders were not only attacking but killing more and more people to the extent that the Council was organizing spider hunts.  He also found out why Jonathan had not agreed to take over Melissa's mentoring.    The stationmaster at White Rocks had a daughter, Justyne, who, though she was cordial to everyone, was just a little more cordial to Jonathan.  Joshuel did not immediately notice it, but when Melissa started choking on her food in an attempt not to laugh while watching the two, he figured something was up and noticed that Jonathan and Justyne were watching each other.  Jonathan managed to take an extremely long time eating his food, and by the time he was finished, there was hardly anyone in the room, and Justyne was free to come over beside him and eat her own supper.  The two of them stayed up later than most and talked.  Half on and half off the top bunk of the bunk bed in the room he was sharing with his brother, Joshuel thought about how pleasant it would be if he could stay up and talk with Melissa like that.

Translated From Sarconain Highway

Spring came, melting the snow in the lower valleys, though the mountains were still blanketed in the cold whiteness.  Jack and Melissa turned fourteen, and Melissa contacted the Scouts to see if she was still eligible for a Junior Scouthood.  Jack and Jasper began preparing for their trip north. 

It was still very cold when they set out, but they pressed northward despite the icy wind.  Jack carried a map that showed where the sheltered camps were, and though it sometimes took them a little out of their way, they did their best to make one of these camps every night.  Both knew that if they did not, they could easily freeze to death.  They crossed the Nitrasia River and entered Dragontongue land on the third day of their trip.  Following Melissa's directions, they turned north-east.

Jasper found himself constantly looking over his shoulder.  "We're being watched," he said to Jack in an undertone.

Jack nodded.  "I feel the same way."

The 'watched' feeling continued through the day, wearing on their nerves.  Finally Jack decided to scout around.  All Sarconians were woodcrafty, and if Jack was not a Scout, he was certainly a better woodsman than any Jasper had known of on the plains.  He vanished into the woods with barely a sound, intent on circling around and spying on their backtrail.  Everything was silent, save for the wind in the pines, but this did not make Jasper relax.

Suddenly there was a startled yell from Jack.  He tumbled down a low bank into the road, a figure leaping after him.  Jasper sized his bow and knocked an arrow to the string.  Jonathan had taught him archery during his visits to the Breaker farm, and Jasper, already slightly familiar with the skill, had caught on quickly.   Jack rolled to a crouch, dagger drawn.  The figure halted at the sight of Jasper's drawn bow.

"Well met," she said.  "A see that at least one of ye is prepared for attack."

"Are you the one who was following us?" Jack asked.

"Ye knew A was following ye?" the woman asked.

"We suspected it," Jack replied.  He had not relaxed.

"Well met, indeed!" said the woman enthusiastically.  "A did not expect ye to notice me.  Relax, ye two.  A was testing ye."

"Testing?" asked Jasper, relaxing the string and lowering his bow but not taking the arrow from the it.

"Aye."

Jack stood up from his defensive crouch slowly, his dagger still ready.  "Gilthoniel Dragontongue?"

"Aye.  Yer sister sent ye?"

"Yes, Melissa told us to come find you."

"Very good.  Follow me."

They followed her down the path they had been on, then turned onto another trail.

"Ye do know that war is coming?" Gilthoniel asked as they walked.

"War?" the two boys asked in unison.

"Aye."

"The Aranara?" asked Jack.

"Partially.  There's also a corrupt lord on the plains - he's out to take the throne.  That's why A'm going to teach you."

"But why us?"  Jasper voiced the question that was on both boy's minds.

"Do ye realize what ye are?" Gilthoniel asked Jasper.

Jasper looked very confused.  "Apparently not," he said slowly.

"You are the first plainsman to come to the mountains in over a century.  Do you have any idea how pivotal that is?"

Jasper shook his head.

"Well," said Jack,  "I think I might."

Glithoniel sighed.  "Ye may very possibly have the power to unite the kingdom."

"What!?" cried Jasper.  "Me?  I'm just an orphan who ran to the mountains because I had no other choice!"

"It may have started that way," said Gilthoniel, "But it is very possible that the Lord has other plans in mind for ye.  For now, though, live yer life.  Ye are familiar with the ways of the plains, now ye must become familiar with the ways of the mountains.  That is the first step.  If ye understand both cultures, ye will have a better chance of uniting them.  But we will speak no more on that now.  Now is the time when ye will both learn swordcraft so that ye'll have a better chance of living through the war."

 

Gilthoniel lived in a comfortable stone cottage.  The teaching arrangement was simple. In exchange for Gilthoniel's lessons, which went beyond swordcraft, the boys helped with some of the heavier chores that needed to be done around the cottage.  Most of the day was spent on a hard-packed dirt circle that was about twenty feet in diameter.  They got a basic introduction to every bladed weapon known to Gilthoniel, but she concentrated on teaching them to handle the longsword, the two-handed sword,  and the dagger.

They started out with wooden swords, Gilthoniel dueling one while the other watched or taking them both on at the same time, teaching them to attack together effectively.  She was not very gentle with her practice sword, and when they failed to parry a stroke, they felt it in a hard, stinging blow.  This made them more determined, however, for, not liking the thought of being bruised from head to toe, they defended themselves with vigour.  Although their efforts did not give them real returns until a few weeks had passed, Gilthoniel was pleased - the boys knew the consequences of a poor defense. After some time, they moved on to using real swords with blunted edges.  Gilthoniel drilled them endlessly, and the clash of steel on steel became a familiar sound. 

The days slowly warmed, and the leaves dared to come out.  Jasper breathed in the clean spring air as he watched Gilthoniel and Jack duel.  Both were pouring sweat, for the duel had lasted a very long time.  There was one clash, then another, and suddenly Gilthoniel's sword flew from her hand and skittered across the circle.  "Very good," she said to Jack.   "I think you are ready."  Gilthoniel was exausted, as was Jack, and so there was no more duling for the rest of the day.  They studied inside instead.  Jasper dueled Gilthoniel the next day.  He had no idea how long they fought, only that suddenly, just before his legs gave out, he managed to disarm his teacher.  The next moment, he simply sat down, too tired to stand any longer.  Gilthoniel, breathing heavily, sat down as well, though she did not collaspe as Jasper had.  "I could train you more," she told him, "but you are good, better than most swordsman you will meet.  I will give your  training a little more polish, and then you can go home."

Translated From Sarconain Highway

"I'm going to turn into a white mole," said Jasper as he dug at a snowdrift with Jack. 

Jack grinned, tossing a shovelful of snow to the side.  "This is better than doing  nothing."

"I guess."  It was wintertime, but both boys were kept as busy shoveling snow as they had been when the crops needed care.

Jack tossed another shovel of snow to the side.  As the whiteness settled, he saw a figure.  He watched it for a moment, then sprang to the top of the trench the boys had been digging towards the barn. 

"What is it?" Jasper asked.

Jack paused a moment.  "Melissa!!" he yelled, racing awkwardly forwards as his feet sunk at intervals into the snow.  The other figure began to run towards him, uttering a cry of delight.  Brother and sister floundered through the snow, crashed into each other, and fell to the ground together.  Laughing, they sat up and hugged each other.

As he watched them, Jasper thought of Kaia with a pang in his heart.  Though his little sister had often driven him nuts, he missed her.  Jack and Melissa moved towards him now, Jack's arm around Melissa as they fought through the snow.  They came to the edge of the trench.  Melissa dropped down lightly; Jack followed her.

"I don't believe we've met," said Melissa to Jasper.  She was dressed like a Northerner; the hem of her skirt purposefully made with one side longer than the other.  There was a trace of a Northern accent in her voice, a sign that she had been with them for some time. 

Leaning on his shovel, Jasper kissed her proffered hand.  "I'm Jasper Watson.  I've been living here with your aunt and uncle since this fall."

"It sounds like you might have a story," said Melissa.

"A short one," said Jasper, smiling.

"I must hear it," said Melissa, "though I am content to wait until later."

Jack now spoke up. "We are just as anxious to hear your tale, Melissa," he said.

Melissa laughed.  "Very well.  I shall bring you up to date tonight."

 

"I really went out of my head," said Melissa that evening as they sat around the fire.  "I don't remember much, save that I was miserable.  I saw signs that the Aranara had started the rockslide and suspected that they might come back to kill any survivors.  So I ran, terrified and sad.  I don't remember much from those days.  Then, one day, I decided to jump off a cliff."

Jack looked shocked.  "Jump off a...oh, Lissa."  He took his sister's hand.  "I should have stayed conscious after the slide and given you hope."

"What's done is done," said Melissa.  "I was saved by Glithoniel Dragontongue, a Northerner.  She said that you, Jack, asked the Scouts to look for me?" 

Jack nodded.  "Something like that.  I said that it was likely that you were still alive and asked them to tell all Scouts going on missions north to keep an eye out for sign of you.  Apparently they passed that news on to the three Northern clans."  Jack caught the question in Jasper's eyes and gave an explanation.  "The Northerners are made up of three clans - the Dragontongue clan, who are mostly warriors, the Nitrasi clan, who are mostly fishermen or craftsmen, and the Bartel clan, who are mostly farmers."

Jasper gave a nod of understanding.

Melissa continued.  "Gilthoniel took me to her home.  Over the weeks, as I regained my senses, she asked me about what I had learned from my instructors.  When she had finished quizzing me, the lessons began.  Stealth, archery, knife-play, swordsmanship, herbcraft, everything.  And at a level I never imagined possible."

"It's said that the Dragontongue clan is very skilled with the sword," said Jack.

"And it's no idle tale," said Melissa.  "Gilthoniel is very good; it was an honor to study with her."  Melissa paused before she continued, remembering.

 

"A get the feeling that things are about to start happening, Melissa," said Gilthoniel during one of her swordplay lessons.  "Ye will need talent in this craft.  Next spring, send yer brother north, for he needs to train with me."  Gilthoniel stopped speaking for a moment, as if weighing whether to tell Melissa something or not.  At last she continued.  "There'll be another, a close friend of yer brother, as they will share a story.  He is to come, too."

"Who is he, this other?" Melissa asked.

"Ye'll find out in due time, Lissa, and ye'll know when you 'ere 'is story.  And Lissa, don't tell 'em why A want 'em to come.  Just tell 'em A want to see 'em.  If they ask any questions, tell 'em that they'll find out when they meet me."

 

Deciding that this information did not need to be imparted yet, at least until she found out who Jack's friend was, Melissa skipped the conversation and continued.  "Well, I stayed with her through the summer and fall.  I wanted to be back for the festival, but Gilthoniel wouldn't let me leave; I don't know why.  She wanted me to stay with her through the winter, but I couldn't stand it anymore."

"Stand what?" asked Jack.

"Being away from you; knowing that you didn't know if I was alive or not.  I couldn't take that sort of thing anymore.  So A came back."

"I'm glad you did," said Jack.

Melissa slid into the same chair with her brother.  The chairs were like cubes whose top and front had been cut off.  The arms were the same height as the back, and the entire piece of furniture was padded with cushions.  It was incredibly comfortable, and had room for two people if those people didn't mind being a little squashed together, which Jack and Melissa apparently didn't.

Anna pattered down the stairs in her white nightgown and tumbled over the arm of Jasper's chair, landing in his lap with a contented sigh.  Her yarn-haired doll rested in the crook of her arm.

"And why aren't you in bed yet?" Jasper inquired somewhat playfully, looking at the clock.

"I'm not sleepy," Anna declared.  "At all.  Can't I stay up and listen to Melissa's stories?"

"You know just as well as I do, Anna," said Jasper, "that you are supposed to be in bed by nine-thirty."

"Pleeeease?" Anna begged.

Mary Breaker came in from the kitchen.  "Anna?  You should be in bed."

"But I want to hear the stories, Ma."

"You may stay up until ten, then, I suppose, but no later."

Anna settled herself contentedly in Jasper's lap.

"Jasper," said Mary, "Have you seen Alethea?"

"No, ma'am," Jasper replied.

Mary shook her head.  "She's been spending a lot of time around town since she began her diplomatic training."

Jasper nodded.

"If she isn't back by ten 'o clock, you and Jack go into town and get her."

"Yes ma'am," Jack and Jasper replied together.

"What is your tale, Jasper?" asked Melissa, pulling up her knees and leaning her head against Jack's shoulder as Mary left the room.

Jasper took a deep breath, considering where to begin.  "I was born in Brenia Village.  My father was a carpenter.  I grew up helping him somewhat, but I spent most of my time with the fishermen who lived at the edge of Brenia lake, which was north of the village.  They taught me how to handle smaller watercraft, and, when I was skilled enough to go out alone, I would fish.  My younger sister, Kaia, would sell what fish we didn't eat at the market. 

"This...summer, a plague hit the village.  Both my parents will killed by it.  My sister and I were placed with different guardians, and I do not know what has happened to her.  Later that summer, my guardians decided to arrange an engagement between their daughter and I."

"Engagement?" Melissa interrupted.  "How old are you, Jasper?"

"Thirteen."

"And how old was she?"

"Thirteen."

"So," said Melissa, "This kind of early engagement must be sort of an...obscure tribal custom?"

Jasper nodded.  The Strianelians had once been disconnected nomadic tribes.  Although they were now united into one nation, most knew to which tribe they belonged and worshiped the same tribal gods and practiced most of the same tribal customs as their ancestors.  "I am part of the SyDow tribe, and it has always been considered a disgrace among the tribe if a young person is not engaged before they are fourteen.  I believe that we are the only tribe that practices early engagement, but it has still been very important."

"So I take it that your guardian's daughter and you got along?"  asked Melissa.

Jack snickered softly.

Jasper shook his head.  "No, we did not."

"Then why would they do such a thing?"

"I don't know," said Jasper, "besides the fact that most tribes demand that members marry within their own tribe, and none of Misty's circle was SyDow.  I think the union made perfect sense to my guardians; they liked me, that I know."

"They were obviously blind to their daughter's opinions," said Jack.

"Yes, well, most marriages are arranged by parents or guardians.   Then you have four years to fall in love with your betrothed, and if you aren't in love with them by the time you are both seventeen - though.  You are marrying them anyway."

"Ouch," said Melissa.

"Yeah," Jasper agreed.  "Thankfully, in the SyDow tribe, the groom can break the engagement if he wants to after the four years.  Of course, the entire thing is looked at with some extent of disapproval, but it can be done if neither person is happy.  So I was going to wait, but everyone in Brenia makes a very big deal over a marriage, and neither Misty or I could take it anymore."

"So you ran away?"

"Yes.  I will most likely be presumed dead, and the engagement will be broken.  Even if it is not, Misty won't have to put up with me.  I intend to go back there in a few years and make sure that the engagement was indeeed broken after I dissapeared."

"Do you think you'll remember?" asked Jack.

Jasper thought of the ruby ring he wore on a chain around his neck.  "I hope so," he replied.

 

"You mentioned tribal gods?" Jack asked Jasper later that night in the attic.

"Yes," said Jasper.  'There's the sun god, the moon goddess, the star goddess, the night god, the storm god, the river gods, the tree gods, the god of war and a several others that I don't remember at the moment."

"Does each tribe worship all these gods?"

Jasper shook his head.  "No.  We believe in and respect them all, but each tribe has a patron god or goddess whom we worship exclusively.  The SyDow tribe, for example, worships Darti, the star goddess.  There's this one group of people that say that there is only one God.  They call him the Lord of Heaven.  They call the gods and goddesses false, ignore many tribal customs, and even intermarry.  Which on the plains is a big deal.  Not that they're bad...just very strange.  I notice that you Sarconians also worship this God."

"Yes," said Jack, "we do.  He is the God of everything."

Jasper thought for a moment.  "That is a very big God."

Jack hid a smile.  He had been waiting for this conversation for a long time.  Jasper had been respectful and quiet during family prayers and devotions, but it was obvious that he did not hold the same religious beliefs as the Breaker family.  "The Lord is everywhere," Jack said.

"I don't think I understand this God."

"Have you gathered anything from the devotions?"

"Not much.  It doesn't all make sense.  I worship in my way, you worship in yours, how does it make a difference?  What difference does it make, one God or many?  They are all strange beings who don't really care that much."

"The Lord cares."

"About you maybe, but not about me."

"And why would He not care about you?"

"Why do you think?" Jasper asked.  "I have always followed Darti."

"Have you ever made anything?" asked Jack.

"Ummm....yeah," said Jasper, puzzling over the sudden change of subject.

"Did you care about it?"

"Well, yeah.  I made it."

"God made you, and don't you think He would care about His creation?"

"So, you are saying that I've been taught a lie all my life.  There is no such thing as the star goddess, just one God who made me and cares about me.  That's a whole lot to grasp!  But why should I accept it, anyway?  What proof have you that Darti doesn't exist?"

"Do you believe in eternity?"

"Yes."

"What happens when followers of Darti die?"

"They turn into stars."

"Seen any new stars lately, Jasper?"  Jack asked.

"Well, no.  But that doesn't mean they aren't there!"

"No," Jack admitted, "it doesn't.  Let me give you some proof that God exists.  Have you studied the time before the Dark Years?"

"Just a bit.  Why?"

Jack pulled out a book.  "Have you ever seen one of these?"

Jasper leaned over to look at it.  "Once or twice.  I know it's called The Word and it outlines the beliefs of the Lord's followers.  They say He directed its writing."

"It's also a history.  What are some events from before the Dark Years that you would consider yourself very familiar with?"

Jasper named off a few events.

Jack nodded, flipped through the book, and handed it to Jasper, pointing to a place. "There."

Jasper read it.

"Well?" asked Jack when he was finished.  "Is it accurate?"

"Yes."

"So, what's to say the rest of it isn't accurate?  I can assure you, I've checked up on this through the Archives, and I've never seen an event misrepresented."

"I can believe you that it's accurate.  But what difference does that make?"

"It makes this completely true, every word."

"Yeah, I'm willing to believe that.  But how does that affect me?"

"It says that God commands everyone to follow Him and Him alone.  That's how it affects you."

Jasper considered this.  He had been taught all his life that when a god said to do something, it was best to do it.  But to do what this God said to do was to disobey what the other gods said to do.  He said as much to Jack.

The other boy nodded.  "But that's not a problem if they don't exist."

Jasper thought about that for a while.  "Let me sleep on it."

"Okay," said Jack, not wanting to push the matter.  "Also, it would be good if you talked to Jonathan on this.  He's far better studied than I."

Jasper looked puzzled.  "I thought Jonathan was a Scout."

"And an ardent follower of the Lord, as are all the Scouts.  Their relationship with God is a major part of their lives."

"Their relationship?  Not their religion?"

"You'll know what I mean once you've studied it more." 

 

Jasper was more than happy to study with Jonathan.  Although the Sarconian's religion was different than everything he had been taught, it made some sense to him.  The people who followed the Lord were different.  They did not live in fear of the purposeless wrath of the gods and goddesses, they lived in joy.  There was a definite respect for their God, but not stark terror.  He liked that; it was more reasonable than the muttering priests and strange rituals that he had seen in years before.  His study was interrupted, however, by an announcement from Melissa.

"Jack?  Jasper?  Where are you?"  Melissa called as she came into the barn.

Jasper, pitchfork in hand, stuck his head out of the loft.  "What?"

Melissa looked up at him.  "I want to talk to you and Jack.  Where is he?"

"Trying to milk the goat," Jasper replied.  "Not that he was doing very well the last time I saw him."

"If he's not very good, why do you let him do it?"  asked Melissa.

"That goat is antsy," said Jasper.  "None of us can really handle milking her, so Alethea, Jack and I take turns. Of course," he added regretfully,  "when Alethea leaves for her internship with Master Kall in Corvan, it'll just be Jack and I."

Jack trudged in with half of the milk in a pail and the other half splattered all over his hair and clothing.  "I am in no way endeared to that goat," he said.  "It's trying to drown me."

"You can say that again," said Jasper, swinging down from the hay loft.  "What did you want to talk to us about, Melissa?"

"Gilthoniel said to send you two north," said Melissa.

"Why?" asked Jack.

Melissa shrugged.  "I'm not entirely sure myself.  She said you'd understand when you got there."

Jasper scratched his head, discovered a bit of hay in it, pulled the hay out, and examined it.  "Hu.  Jack?"

"Well," said Jack, "There's no reason to not trust Glithoniel.  She is a Dragontongue, and they like being mysterious."

"Anyway," said Jasper, "we wouldn't have to milk the goat."

"Anything to get out of that," Jack said.  "Let's talk to Uncle John and Aunt Mary."

"I already did," said Melissa.  "They say that you can go as soon as the snow melts."

Jack rubbed the back of his head.  "I thought Uncle John wanted us here for spring planting."

"Joshuel Carzim has graduated from his Junior Scouthood, so he and Jonathan are settling down into a regular Scout's routine.  They'll have time to come over and help with the planting."

Jack and Jasper looked at each other.  "Well," said Jack, "I guess that settles it."

Translated From Sarconain Highway

The Great Market was a few days after the Fall Festival.  Craftsman and merchants from all over the mountains, south-western Teranse, and eastern Corvan came to market their wares.  Sarconia City, though little more than a legend on the plains, was still an important trade center. 

The Market Square in the city was usually bustling with activity, but today, it was truly hectic.  The Breakers had loaded whatever they had about the farm to barter with into the wagon and set out soon after dawn.  Jasper took in everything with profound excitement.  Besides the usual Sarconian inhabitants, there were several of the Corvanie - tall people with tight-sleeved clothing that was cut far differently than any Jasper had ever seen.  They seemed to like bright colors, and their vivid clothing stood out from the more quietly dressed Sarconians.  A group of stately people glided past with a guard of four Scouts.

"Elves," Jack whispered in Jasper's ear.  "Probably diplomats."

John Breaker found a place where the wagon and its contents would be undisturbed, and they all got down.

"You boys have a choice," said Mary.  "Either serve as Alethea's escort or babysit Anna and Stephen."

Jack and Jasper chose Alethea almost without pausing to think about the matter.

"Stay together," Mary said.  "Meet back here at the wagon about two hours before sunset.  Alethea, bargain carfully; don't let anyone fool you."

 

Jack, Jasper, and Alethea wove through the stalls, taking an overall view of things.  A Corvanie merchant's daughter approached Alethea, a beautifully woven shawl in her hands. 

"Lovely, is it not?" she asked, holding it out and allowing Alethea to finger the fabric contemplatively.  "Trimmed with beads too, as is the latest fashion in the Corvanie Court."

"It is beautiful," said Alethea, before moving on.

The entire area was filled with things to see.  Weavers displayed exotically woven fabrics, jewelers flashed their hand-crafted regalia before shopper's dazzled eyes, cooks and bakers offered the most scrumptious refreshments they knew how to make, woodworkers presented nearly everything that could be made from wood - from stools to instruments, and smiths showed off their work as well.  Musicians were everywhere.   Here and there, Scouts patrolled the area, keeping the Market orderly. 

Each of the three young people had some money to spend on whatever they liked.  They wanted to survey the market before making their decisions, however, for the coins they carried in their pockets were hard-earned.  Copper regals were the least valuable coin in the  internationally accepted currencies.  The only difference between countries was the queen whose image was stamped on the coin, and no one really bothered to concern themselves about whether the queen was Corvanie, Strianelian or Teransen.  After that, however, names and appearance divided.  The Corvanie had silver kesks, which weighed an a ounce, tuets, which were half an ounce, and jirs, which were a quarter of an ounce.   The Strianelians and Sarconians used one ounce sliver hios, half ounce neoms, and quarter-ounce ses.  The Teransens used the same currency as the Strianelians.  But here at the Market, no merchant would complain if a customer used both kesks and hios to pay for his or her purchase, for they all weighed the same, and the merchants were more concerned about getting the right weight of sliver  than having all the coins match.

"Did you know," said Jack as they wandered through the booths, "that the name of the coin ses is the same as the Elvish word for 'moth'?"

"You are serious?" asked Jasper.

"Quite," said Jack.

"Then how," Jasper asked, "would they come up with a name like that?"

"From what I hear," Jack replied, "the first time this currency came out, the coin was stamped with the image of a moth."

"A moth?!"  Jasper said, shocked.  "Why?"

"I don't know."   Jack's attention was now drawn by a smith who was showing a knife he had made.

"Perfect balance," the smith said.  "Excellent for throwing."  He continued his sales pitch, ending it proudly with, "Only five kesks, my friends.  You'll find no better price anywhere."

Jack, who, up to this point, had been listening intently, snorted.  "Ha," he said softly.  "Unless there's something extra-special about that knife that he did not mention, I can get one just as good for only three hios; two ounces less than his price."

They continued on, admiring the wears.  After a stop at a booth for cider and bread, they settled down to bargaining for their purchases.  Alethea had decided on a shawl from Corvan.  It was bright blue and fringed with purple beads.  An expert at haggling, Alethea talked down the price a great deal, and, when she counted her change, she found that she had quite enough to go and visit one of the bead workers or jewelers.  Jack wanted a knife, but not the price of six hios that came with it, and so spent almost an hour talking the merchant down to three hios and one neom, which, Jasper had learned, was only a neom more than the usual price for knives.  Jasper had not yet seen anything that he particularly wanted, so, while Jack bargained for the knife, he accompanied Alethea to the jewelers and waited patiently while she cooed over the beautiful jewelry.

While Alethea critically examined every necklace, bracelet, broach, clasp, and ring in her price range, Jasper's attention was drawn by a tailor.

"It'll keep you warm, lad," said the man, holding up a gray cloak for Jasper to examine.  "Elf-made cloth it is, so it'll last almost forever."  The man was warming to his subject now.  "The cowl is deep to keep off the wind, and the hem is deep too, so there's room to grow.  Of course," the man twirled the cloak, "if you don't like this style, I've got some with sleeves and some with slits in the sides, if you'd prefer.  I've different colors too.  Black, a couple shades of green and blue and several shades of brown."

Alethea, having made her purchase with surprising speed, now joined Jasper and felt the cloth critially.  "It's good fabric," she said, "and the stitching is firm as well."

The tailor grinned with pleasure.  "None better, miss."   Seeing that Jasper was becoming increasingly interested, the tailor brought out every color he had and spread them on the makeshift counter for Jasper and Alethea to examine in the late afternoon light.  Alethea advised Jasper that a cloak of this quality was a good purchase, so he set about deciding on a color.  At last they narrowed it down to a brown and a green; Jasper liking the simple, straightforward color of the brown, and Alethea arguing that the green matched his eyes.  Jasper couldn't have cared less about his clothes matching his eyes, but wasn't sure how to tell Alethea that.  He was at last rescued by the tailor's wife who, seeing his predicament, pulled Alethea aside and told her that expecting boys to choose a cloak just because it matched their eye color was a vain hope.  Alethea reluctantly gave up her stand.

The tailor nodded vigorously.  "Brown then.  Basic, sleeves, or slits?"

"Basic," Jasper replied.

"Alright," said the tailor.  "I have five kinds of clasps, or you can go with a tie."  He laid out the choices.

Jasper quickly eliminated three of them, thinking them too elaborate, and decided against the tie.  He finally chose a clasp that slid together and locked, forming a square.  The tailor's wife folded up the cloak, Jasper paid the tailor with a hios and a ses, and, thanking them, he and Alethea joined up with Jack and headed for the wagon.  

 

There was plenty of things for them to do when they got there.  While Alethea looked after the twins, John, Jack and Jasper loaded the wagon with bolts of cloth, books, and farm tools under Mary's instruction.  Then they climbed in to go home; John, Mary, and Alethea in the front seat and Jack, Jasper, Stephan and Anna in the back.

 

Translated From Sarconain Highway

Melissa stood on the edge of the gorge, looking down the high sheer cliffs to the wild river below.  One step - she would be over the edge, and that was her plan.  The crashing, merciless river would not let her live for long, even if she managed to fall between the jagged rocks that thrust out of the river like so many broken teeth.  The young girl was not in total control of her stricken mind, having never fully recovered from the blow to the head that had knocked her out during the rockslide.  Everything in her brain was foggy; nothing clear at all except the fact that both her mind and her body were in pain.  Disoriented, she had decided that death was the only escape from that.  She stepped forwards.  Something jerked at her belt and she felt herself falling, but it was not the direction she had intended.  She was falling backwards.  Arms caught her and she was lifted, none too gently, and carried away from the edge of the cliff.

Melissa did not resist.  She didn't care what happened to her.  Her unsupported head drooped back over her rescuer's arm, and she felt the blood going into it.  Perhaps she would go unconscious.  The thought was inviting, and she welcomed the blackness, inviting it into her mind. 

Cold water on her face drove the blackness away.  "What do ye think ye're doin'?" said a voice above her.  It was a woman who had spoken.  Melissa knew that from her voice.  She also knew that the woman was a northerner from her accent.

"Getting away from it all," said Melissa.

" 'At's the worst way to do it, lassie."

"Can't you just leave me alone?"

"Melissa.  No.  A can't just leave ye alone."

"How do you know my name?"

"A've been lookin' for ye.  Yer brother - he contacted the Scouts, told 'em ye were still presumably alive.  They contacted us Northerners."

"Jack!!" Melissa screamed, sitting up.  "He's alive?"

"Yes.  And very worried."

"And I...And I..." Melissa, overwhelmed, fainted.

 

When she awoke, she was lying on something comfortable and a bit crackly.  The blanket over her was slightly rough, but warm.  She didn't want to wake up and face reality, but a voice startled her.

"Melissa.  Up with ye.  A've got food, and yer goin' to eat it.  Now."

"But-"

"Jack."

That single name was very effective.  Melissa opened her eyes, sat up, and took the food.  Her mind was still foggy, even after she finished.

"Drink this," said the woman, holding out a mug.

Melissa took a swallow and felt the foggy curtain tearing.  What is this?  she wondered.

Melissa, when you're home, curled up in a chair eating cookies and reading, you may daydream.  The firm voice of Instructor Devin rang in her mind.  Slip out of reality all you want.  But when you're not at home, you must be on the alert.  No dreaming.  It'll fog your mind, and a good Scout won't let his or her mind fog.  They need it too much.  The gentler voice of Herbalist Chloe followed closely behind.  Lissa, you should be familiar with herbs - especially those that clear the mind.  If you've just struck your head and can't seem to get your mind clear, you must know what to do to get your senses back to where they should be.  Mind clearing herb.  Then the name was there, and she knew what she was drinking.  But Melissa still wasn't sure if she wanted mental clarity.  A fogged mind was just so serene.  More of Instructor Devin's lectures began ringing in her ears.  Melissa's Scout training was firmly ingrained in her.  She finished off the mug without protest.

Her mind was clear now.  Guilt pounced as she realized that she had turned her back on her teachers, her brother, and her God - the three most important things in her life.

"A suppose ye understand the gravity of what ye tried to do?" the woman asked.

Melissa nodded regretfully.

"Mm.  Realize it, repent of it, and put it aside.  Ye don't need to be hauling around unnecessary burdens."

"But I let them all down!" said Melissa.

"Ye've taken the first step.  That's good."

"And I couldn't be more sorry."

"There's the second.  Now set it all aside and go on," the woman said.

"I can't."

"They'll forgive you."

"I can't forgive myself."

"Yes, ye can, if ye put yer mind to it.  Quit moanin' and carryin' on.  Act like the Scout ye are."

"I'm not a Scout yet," said Melissa, a litte defensively.  She wouldn't have normally said this, but it was an escape from responsibility that she didn't want right now.

"Ye're close enough.   Don't use that as an excuse for escaping responsibility that ye don't want right now.  Ye've got to take it sometime, and better now than later."

Melissa eyed her.

"A know A'm tellin' ye things ye don't want to hear, but ye got to.  Melissa, do ye still want to be a Scout?"

"I suppose so.  It was always my dream."

"Then act like a Scout, and don't give up that dream.  Ye got that?"

"Yes."

"Good.  Now, my name's Gilthoniel Dragontongue, and A'm your mentor fer now."

"But I probably need to get back," Melissa protested.

"No, not yet.  Yer in no condition to do so, bein' all mentally shook up as ye are.  Ye need some time to stabilize before ye go back and dive into yer Junior Scouthood.  A can 'elp ye do that, and A'm goin' to."

"But-"

"Don't argue.  It's fer yer own good.  We'll stay at my home fer a few months.  Ye'll be ready to 'ead back by then."

"Alright."

Translated From Sarconain Highway

Jasper brought his ax down on the block of wood.  It split in two, and he threw the pieces in a wheelbarrow.  Life with the Breakers had been good.  John and Mary were kind to him, Alethea helped him cope with his grief the best she could, and the little twins, Anna and Stephen, accepted him as a big brother.

He wiped sweat off his forehead with his sleeve and saw a figure approaching.

"Alethea?" he called.

Alethea stopped flinging seed to the flock of chickens gathered about her feet and looked up.  "It's Jack!" she cried.  "My cousin!  He left with his parents and sister a few weeks ago and he's coming back...alone?  With their mounts?"  Alethea tossed the feed bag into Jasper's wheelbarrow.  "Jack!!"  Hiking up her long skirts, she ran towards her cousin, Jasper on her heels.  "Jack?" asked Alethea as she came up to him.

Jack slid from his saddle and fell against her.  Alethea staggered as the force of her tall cousin's collapse nearly knocked her from her feet.  She was a strong girl, but supporting most of Jack's weight was nearly beyond her.  "Jack."  Alethea put her hand under Jack's chin, lifting his  drooping head and searching the anguished blue eyes.  Jack was not crying, but Alethea could see the tracks tears had made through the dirt on his face. Getting nothing from the boy but a look of overwhelming sadness, Alethea pulled his head to her shoulder, hugging him.   Looking over his shoulder, Alethea saw blood on the saddles of the unicorns.

"Jasper," said Alethea, "Take Jack to the kitchen and get him something to eat while I put up the unicorns."

Jasper pulled Jack's arm around his shoulders, allowing the other boy to lean against him as they walked to the house.  Jasper had heard about Jack from Alethea and knew that Jack was about his age, although Jack was taller than Jasper by a few inches.  There were bits of grass in his black hair, and his vividly blue eyes were still downcast and filled with misery.  They entered the kitchen where Jasper deposited Jack in a chair.  Jack slumped like a rag doll.

Jasper put some food on a plate and set it down in front of Jack.  Jack pushed it away; Jasper pushed it back to him.  This silent battle continued for a few minutes before Jack even noticed Jasper. 

"Who are you?" asked Jack.

"I'm Jasper," Jasper replied.

"Jasper," said Jack, "I don't want to eat."  He pushed the plate away.

"I don't care," said Jasper, shoving the plate back under Jack's nose.  "Eat.  It'll do you good."

"How do you know?" asked Jack, looking at the food with as much craving in his expression as there would be if he was regarding a bowl full of mud.

"When I lost my parents and sister," said Jasper, "Starving myself didn't do me any good.  Now, eat, before I pin you to the floor and cram this meal down your throat."

Jack may not have looked very alive, but his appetite was flourishing.  After the first few bites, he attacked the food like the starving youth he was, much to Jasper's satisfaction.

 

Alethea came into the kitchen a few minutes later.  "What happened, Jack?" she asked gently.

"There was a rockslide," said Jack. "I don't want to talk about it, but I think it was started by the Aranara."

"What makes you think that?" asked Alethea.  She asked the question only to draw the events of the rockslide out of Jack.  It came as no surprise to her that the Aranara might target a Sarconian family, for they did such things frequently.

"There were signs of a few boulders being pried into place and tracks.  Melissa could have made more sense of it than me, but she wasn't there.  I tracked her north for a while, but she hid her trail and I couldn't find it.  A Scout might be able to, but not me."

"Wait," said Alethea, "She's alive?"

Jack nodded.  "But out of her mind, I think."

"How come she didn't know you were alive?" asked Jasper.

"I was knocked unconscious during the slide, then woke up for a little while before I passed out again.  I found out that Melissa was alive when I was awake for the first time, and she must have mistaken me for dead when I was passed out."

Alethea nodded.  "That sounds plausible, especially if she wasn't in full command of her senses."

"But why'd she hide her trail?" Jack lamented.

"Well," said Jasper, "If she woke up and saw the Aranara tracks, she would get away as fast as possible, believing that they might come back and dispatch any survivors they might find."

"I guess I'm blessed that they didn't come back, and I suppose that people will tell me that I'm lucky I"m alive, but I don't feel very lucky."  Jack folded his arms on the table and rested his chin dismally on them.

"You, know," said Alethea, "your stories are remarkably alike: parents taken by events beyond your power to alter and sisters living in unknown locations."

"This happened to you?" Jack asked Jasper.

"More or less," said Jasper, shrugging.  "Just replace the rockslide with a plague."

It has often been said that misery loves company, and Jack's expression lightened at the news that he was not the only one who knew the pain of losing a family so quickly.

 

John Breaker was a farmer and more than pleased to have two capable boys to help with the large harvest.  Jasper had earned part of his family's bread by fishing, and he had grown strong from pulling the oars of his little boat when it was loaded with fish, so while Jasper was visibly muscular, Jack, though strong, had trained for combat and long-distance running.   The boys complimented each other, however. 

John walked into the barn one morning and smiled at the sight of Jack and Jasper wrestling on the floor, Stephen standing nearby and watching with delight at the contest of strength.  It was always a pleasure to watch the boys contend with each other in a friendly way, as they often did and were doing now.  Grunts and short bursts of laughter punctuated their heavy breathing as they each sought to pin the other to the ground.  Dust swirled as they grappled with each other, boots occasionally bashing into walls and shoulder blades sliding against the floor.  Jasper finally managed to pin Jack for long enough to decide the contest, and was promptly tackled by Stephen as soon as he made a motion to rise.  Jasper good-naturedly let the younger boy pin him to the ground while Jack climbed to his feet and dusted himself off.

"Alright, Stephen," said Jasper, "let me up.  You're getting big and heavy to be sitting on me for that long."  Jasper tousled Stephen's hair. 

Grinning with delight at having vanquished his adopted big brother, Stephen scrambled off Jasper and allowed the older boy to get to his feet.  Jasper slapped at his pants, sending clouds of dust into the air and making the three boys sneeze.

Anna came in with a basket lined with a cloth and filled partially with feed for the chickens.  "You boys are dirty," she said solemnly.  "Why do you roll in the dirt like that?"  She gave the barn floor a disdainful glance.

"Because we enjoy it," said Jack, grinning wickedly at his young cousin.

Prim Anna shook her brown curls at the strangeness of boys and tripped delicately to where the chickens were waiting for their breakfast, the shoulder-length ringlets bobbing under the little red kerchief she wore over her head.  They watched her, smiling.  She was only seven, and her attempts to mimic the feminine graces of her mother and older sister both amused and charmed the four males in the household.   

 

Jack and Jasper lived in the attic of the farmhouse with the squashes, pumpkins, and a cat.  Strings of dried fruits and vegetables hung from the ceiling along with herbs, giving the large room a spicy smell.  The bed was a crackly pile of hay and corn husks covered with a huge sheet.  Blankets stacked on a nearby pumpkin were grabbed throughout the night as they were needed.  Jack snored sometimes, and would occasionally be awakened in the middle of the night when a half-asleep Jasper hit him over the head with a gourd.  The black furred, green-eyed cat, Ezmeralda, awakened them more often with gifts of mice and rats, which she presented with great dignity.   Ezmeralda was often confused by the boys lack of interest in her vanquished prey, but would finally give up trying to get them to eat it and take her catch off to the corner and have her own midnight snack.  The boys did appreciate the cat's toils, however, and Ezmeralda was, in truth, quite spoiled with attention.  

 

Soon the crops were harvested and stored away, the excess sold or used to barter for things the family needed.  The leaves of the aspen trees had turned yellow, and the Sarconians celebrated the fall festival.  Jasper was familiar with the festival, but it came earlier in the mountains than on the plains.  That morning, Jonathan Carzim, his brother Joshuel, and their family came to the farmhouse.  The Carzim family and the Breaker family always celebrated the fall festival together.  Both Jonathan and Joshuel carried bows.  Jack got his bow and Jasper his fishing pole, and the four boys set out to bring their own contributions to the feast that was being prepared at the family home.   Agreeing to meet by the stream where Jasper was fishing, they split up.

Joshuel was the first to return.  "How is it going?" he asked Jasper softly.

Jasper grinned and pointed to a bucket filled with water and fish.  "I think I'll stop soon.  How did your hunt go?"

Joshuel proudly held up a few dead turkeys.  "Very well."

Jonathan came up slowly, a deer over his broad shoulders.  Jack followed him with another, smaller deer.  "I'm so hungry that I could eat this whole deer," said Jonathan.

"Tell me about it," said Jack.

They ate lunch by the stream, then cut two long poles.  They hung a deer from each one.  Joshuel's turkeys were also hung from the poles along with Jasper's fish.  Resting the poles on their shoulders, they were able to carry the deer with relative ease.  Jonathan and Jack carried Jonathan's deer and the turkeys; Joshuel and Jasper had Jack's deer and Jasper's fish.

They stopped in sight of the farmhouse to butcher the deer.  Joshuel and Jasper took the fish and turkeys to the kitchen, then returned to help Jonathan and Jack, who were bleeding the deer.  After this, they gutted the  creature.

"You know," said Jasper to Joshuel, "You're a lot less intimidating when you are not wielding that thing in my face."  Jasper gestured to the bloody knife Joshuel held in his hand.

"Yeah," said Joshuel.  "Sorry about that.  I saw Leila's horse and overreacted."

"And then you wonder why I don't let you graduate from your Junior Scouthood," said Jonathan, who was up to his elbows in gore.  "You overreact a whole lot more than you should."

"I don't know what I did to make the council mad," said Joshuel to Jasper, "but they put me under my brother for the duration of my Junior Scouthood."

"You didn't make them mad," said Jonathan.  "I volunteered to be your instructor.  I don't know what I was thinking."

"He's that bad, ay?" asked Jack.

"And worse," responded Jonathan, though there was a joking note in his voice.

The butchering process was gross, but at last they completed it and took the meat to the kitchen.  The carcasses were left for the wolves and the hides put aside to be scraped and tanned.

 Dusk was growing, and they joined John and a few more men in dragging fallen trees into a large pile for a bonfire.  The had all been hard at work, and they grew hungry.  The smells drifting from the kitchen drew them like bees to honey.

For all the fun and action, however, Jasper noted that Jack seemed somewhat depressed.  "Melissa used to always chase we away from the kitchen with a rolling pin in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other," he said.  "I never thought I would miss that, but I do."

Jasper stopped short as he remembered something.  "My sister, Kaia, would be twelve today."

"Really?" asked Jack.

Jasper nodded.  "Yeah.  I miss her.  She used to attack me with wooden spoons too."

Jasper smiled a bit sadly, then his expression brightened.   "Food!!"

Tables had been set up, and the women and girls were loading them with food.  The men were starting the fire, and soon the party was in full swing. Sitting around the bonfire, they all ate until they could eat no more.  Stories were told, and the evening wore away pleasantly.  The Carzims were staying over at the farmhouse, and the four boys retired to the attic with Stephen, who was resigned to giving up his bed to one of the ladies at the prospect of staying in the attic with the 'big boys' as he called Jonathan, Jack, Jasper and Joshuel. 

Almost as soon as they reached the attic, Ezmeralda jumped into Jasper's lap with a demanding meow.  He scratched the cat behind her ears, an action that was followed by contented purring.  Ezmeralda stretched comfortably and worked her claws, digging them into Jasper's blue pant leg and velveting them methodically.  Stephen went to sleep, and they blew out the light and talked, or at least tried to talk, in whispers in the dark until Mary came up and sternly told them to go to bed.

 

There was plenty of action going on the next day, but Jasper found some time to be alone.  The musicians playing beside the fire the night before had reminded him of something - something he had nearly forgotten.  Digging through the depths of the bag in which most of his possessions were stored, he found it: a pipe.  His father had carved it for him many years before, and it was truly a work of art.  Designs twisted around it, and an engraving of an elf-maid sat upon a swing that seemed to hang from the upper ridge, which was carved to look like a tree branch.  She wore a dress whose sleeves fell back to her elbows; the skirt was long and full and only the tips of her toes peeked out from under it.  A light wind lifted her flower-crowned hair, blowing it to the side and showing a pointed ear.  Only the profile of her face could be seen, for it was turned to the side.

Jasper put the pipe to his lips and blew upon it.  It started with a pure note, then squawked painfully.  Jasper took a deep breath, licked his lips and blew again.  He had once been skilled at this, earning extra money during the festival for playing at celebrations.  The note sounded clearly.  He shot into a lively tune that he was quite familiar with, or had been.  To Jasper's pleasure, he noted that he had lost none of his skill.   He switched to a different song, one that changed from major to minor with great frequency.  Eyes half closed, he swayed slightly with his music.  Reluctantly, he brought the song to an end.

"I never knew you could play," said a voice from the doorway.

Jasper turned.  Jack was watching him.  "I haven't in some time," Jasper said quietly.

"You're very good for not having played in so long."

"Thanks," said Jasper, rising with the pipe in his hand. 

"I heard you downstairs and came to investigate," said Jack.  "You should play with the musicians tonight."

Jasper shook his head.  "I do not know any of your songs."

Jack grinned.  "Doesn't matter.  I have the feeling you can pick things up and besides, some new songs will be great."

"You...you really think so?"

"Yep."

 

Jasper was far less uncomfortable that night than he had expected.  Playing with a group of musicians was actually quite familiar to him, for he had done it quite frequently back home.  He found out why Mary had so firmly insisted that they go to bed the night before, for there was no sign of the party stopping.  Anna curled up in Alethea's lap and went to sleep.  Stephen tried desperately to stay awake, but failed.  The fire burned down to embers that glowed beautifully.  They reveled in the moonlight, running races over the harvested fields and having mock battles amongst the dried corn-stalks. 

Alethea carried Anna and Stephen back into the house and put them to bed.  Then she returned to the party, an unearthly white figure that danced over the fields.  A more traditional part of the evening was starting.  If the boys could catch Alethea, they could go up to a huge pile of rocks less than a mile away and continue their races, mock battles and contests of strength there.  If she could elude them for a set amount of time or until they gave up, the evening would be over and they would have to go to bed.  The boys chased Alethea, but she was as hard to catch as a ghost, her laughter taunting them.  At last they all gave up, save for Jack, though he pretended defeat.  Then, creeping away from his unwary comrades, he slipped up on Alethea with the silence of a cat.  A scream of surprise informed everyone of Jack's success in apprehending his cousin.  He emerged from the corn-field carrying the merry captive who must now sit as queen over their early morning revels.  It was an old tradition of unknown origin, and they happily practiced it despite the fact that the the only young people in the Carzim family were boys, Jonathan and Joshuel;  Melissa and Alethea were the only girls in the Breaker family both old and young enough to participate, and this year, only Alethea was present.

They carried her up to a huge mound of rocks, a triumphant, noisy group.  The topmost rock was, in comparison to the other rocks, small, and it was here that they seated Alethea on a bearskin.  The rock directly below her was very large, flat, almost white, and perfect for playing any game that they could think of.  Alethea laughed with pleasure at their wild feats as they contested against each other.  In the very early morning they gathered in a circle to eat left-overs of supper which Jonathan had possessed the intelligence to bring.  

They lounged about for a short while after their respate, but activities soon resumed.  Jonathan challenged Jasper to a wrestling match, and soon the two boys were rolling about, sweat beading on their faces.  They grunted and strained, muscles trembling with the effort, teeth gritted.  At first, they seemed evenly matched, but Jasper soon began to feel the sweetness of dominance.  Jonathan was skilled, but Jasper had spent many months honing his skill with Jack.  A few minutes in the competition, Jasper saw a flicker of self-doubt in Jonathan's eyes.  He fought harder, and Jonathan responded in kind, but Jasper soon had him pinned flat on the rock.

"You're really good," Jonathan gasped.

Jack laughed. "You don't have to tell me that.  He's been practicing on me for the last several months.  The barn floor and I are now very well acquainted."

"Now Jack," said Jasper, rising off of Jonathan, "You've introduced me to that floor more than once as of late."

"Perhaps," said Jack, "but you're still my better at wrestling."

"Look," said Alethea.  "The sun rises."

The  turned east.  The sky was lightening.  They all sat down and watched golden rays streak across the sky, turning the clouds pink and dying the mountains with red.  Joshuel yawned so widely that it was a wonder his face did not split in two. 

"May I suggest sleep?" he asked.

The others nodded, suddenly feeling very tired.  They had brought up several skins and now spread them on the rock.  Alethea lay in center; the boys formed a square around her - a shielding gesture that she did not protest, for beasts roamed the forest, not all of them harmless.  Jonathan gave Alethea his cloak to serve as a blanket and dropped down on his bedroll, seeming to go to sleep immediately.  Muttering something about his brother's immunity to cold, Joshuel wrapped himself in a cloak and laid down, also passing swiftly from consciousness.  Jasper and Jack followed suit

Translated From Sarconain Highway

Melissa Breaker drew out a key that was hung on a chain around her neck.  She was a slim girl of thirteen years with walnut hair and purple eyes.   Like all Scout students, she was dressed in shades of brown.  Her pants were dark brown, and she wore a tan dress that reached to her knees.  The sleeves of the dress were flared and laced from the elbow down with slender leather braid.  A scarred leather belt and a dagger completed her simple attire.  The key which she now held in her hand was a obvious contrast to her unadorned garb.  It was wrought of silver that had been forged into an incredibly beautiful design and traced with delicate filigree.

Kneeling in front of a carved chest, she eagerly put the key in the lock that held the chest shut.  This chest had sat in her room for many years, but she had only now gotten the key for it.  She lifted the heavy lid and peered inside.

On top of everything was a sword.  Melissa lifted it from the chest and looked at it with delight.  The hilt was the most beautiful she had ever seen.  Three dawnflowers formed the grip and pommel; the stems were twisted about each other, though Melissa could see little of the braid because of the leather that was wrapped tightly around it and sewn with a strong whip-stitch.  The flowers themselves made the pommel, rising from the leather in a pleasing triangle.  A ruby was embedded in each petal, and tiny gold balls gleamed from the center of each flower.  The cross-guard was made of six dawnflower stems interlaced with each other, and three of the flowers were at each end of the cross-guard, although they were smaller than the ones on the pommel.  The sheath was well-made but simple.  Melissa took the hilt of the sword in a firm grasp and pulled the sword from its sheath.  A long, well-polished blade glimmered before her eyes.  The edge was keen, the blade sturdy, and the balance of the sword was better than any Melissa had seen. 

"The sword of Queen Amara," said Melissa wonderingly.  No one could have studied Sarconian history as much as Melissa had and not recognized that Elf-made sword at first sight.  She sheathed it and laid it to the side, then turned her attention back to the other contents of the chest.

Melissa was the daughter of Alex and Jennifer Breaker.  She had only one sibling, a twin brother, Jack.  Today was a day of special note, for Jack and Melissa were turning thirteen.   Melissa had gotten this key for the chest from her parents.  It was an old chest that had seen many owners.  It was known in literature as the Heir's Chest, for it always passed to the heir of Queen Amara, the last queen of the mountain people.  Her descendants still lived, although they did not hold the throne, and passed the chest from one heir to the next.

Thinking about presents made Melissa think of a package under her bed.  She jumped up and dug under the bed for a moment before pulling out the package.  She sat on the bed with it in her lap, thinking about how much the contents would please her brother.  In the package was a bridle that she had made and beaded herself.  The reins were made of several thin strips of leather intertwined in a complex braid that had taken Melissa weeks to master.    Also in the package was a book, 'The Quest of Derek Bijan'.  It was an old piece of literature and one of Jack's favorite stories, for the tale was filled with heroic deeds and narrow escapes.  Melissa had found 'The Quest' in a library and copied it into a book for Jack.

 

Jack Breaker, unbeknownst to Melissa, was thinking along the same lines as he slipped a hackamore onto a big gray unicorn.  The unicorn's name was Dawn, and Jack had trained him for his sister, even though she didn't know it.  Dawn was trained as a Scout's unicorn, and with Melissa aspiring to that profession, Dawn would be a perfect mount for her.  Jack had kept him in a hidden corral and had gone to get him right after breakfast.  Now he took Dawn's reins and led him towards the house, his gray-green tunic and pants fading into the distant trees.  He was also thinking of a package hidden under his bed that contained a handwritten copy of the 'Lists of Kings', a history of the kings of Sarconia and Strianel.  In this book, Jack was about to reveal one of his deepest secrets - that he wrote with a beautiful copperplate hand.  He had copied the book that was now under his bed from the expansive volumes at the library as a history assignment and intended to give it to Melissa; she would enjoy it more than he.

 

Heavy footsteps pounded on the stairs, and Melissa frantically shoved the package under her bed.  Jack burst into the room with a happy shout, slightly long black hair flying, grabbed her hand, and nearly dragged her down the stairs, his electric blue eyes shining with excitement.  Melissa followed him, long since adjusted to being accosted by her brother with no explanation.

Jack had decided to let Melissa gush over Dawn for a few minutes before telling her that the unicorn was hers. He watched her from his seat on the porch railing, savoring the moment.  Melissa's squeals of rapture when Jack told her that he had trained Dawn for her were most satisfying.

"Oh, Jack," she cried, leaping up to the porch railing and sitting beside him, "Dawn's the most beautiful unicorn I've ever seen!"  She vowed to make him the best blackberry pie that he had ever had in his life or die in the attempt, and Jack felt that his toils were well repaid.

When Melissa vanished into the kitchen later that morning with a basket of blackberries, Jack hung around the kitchen door like a crazed stalker, nearly drooling in anticipation of his favorite treat.  Finally the pie was in the oven, and Melissa was free to race up the stairs and get the package from under her bed.  She managed to coax Jack away from the kitchen door with it.  He was exceedingly impressed with the bridle, and even the smell of the baking  pie was not enough to pull him from the book.  After Melissa finished washing the dishes, he drew himself from the pages for long enough to give her the 'Lists of Kings'.

When Jennifer came out into the living room to announce that lunch was ready, she found the twins squashed together in one chair, reading.  The prospect of lunch, however, gained their full attention, and they found bookmarks and tumbled out of the chair and into the kitchen, where Jack was nearly intoxicated with the scent of blackberry pie.  Melissa set the table with stunning speed, Jennifer sent Jack out to get Alex from the stables, and the family was soon seated around the table.

"How does a trip sound?" asked Alex as they ate roast chicken.

"Yeah," said Jack, who tried to keep his sentences down to one word when he was eating.

"Before I enter my Junior Scouthood sometime later this year?" asked Melissa.  She put a piece of chicken in her mouth and waited for her father's reply.

"Yes.  I was thinking of going this summer.  Can you be ready?"

"Yeah," said Jack, his eyes on the stack of peas that balanced precariously on his fork.

"I think so," said Melissa.

"Argh!"  Jack looked mournfully at the peas rolling around on his plate.  "Why did the Lord make peas round?"

"To test your patience," said Jennifer.  "Use a spoon, Jack."

Jack obediently picked up his spoon and vigorously devoured the renegade peas before they had anymore chances to try his tolerance.

The family continued to discuss the trip as Jennifer and Melissa cleared the table and cleaned up the kitchen in preparation for dessert.  Jack went into raptures over the blackberry pie and grew unusually expansive with the compliments directed to his sister.  She blushed and wiggled in her chair, both pleased and embarrassed.

 

They left several weeks later and headed west.  It was going to be a long trip; almost a month of camping out.  A sturdy mountain pony carried their gear.  Melissa practiced the skills she had learned as a Scout student, and the family enjoyed the time together.  They were about to pass under a rock ledge on their way back when Melissa stopped.

Jack halted and turned in his saddle.  "Lissa?"

"I don't like it Jack, and neither does Dawn," said Melissa.

"The ledge?"

"Yes."

"Well, it is rather creepy looking, but Mom and Dad are already halfway past it, so let's go."

And so it was that when the rocks plunged down, the twins did not get the brunt of the slide.  There were several horrible minutes of crashing and screaming, and then all was still.

 

Blackness cleared from Jack's eyes and he sat up.  Melissa lay next to him.  He checked her pulse and saw that she was alive.  "Mom?!  Dad?!"  His words echoed off the ledge.  He headed closer to the center.  The lower part of his mother's arm extended from under a boulder.  Jack knew he couldn't move the boulder and didn't want to.  "Dad?!" He found his father a moment later, laying face-down on the ground.  "Dad!"  Jack rolled him over and stopped short.  Alex Breaker's chest was crushed, and he was dead.  Jack dropped down on the ground and cried until he passed out again.

 

When Melissa awoke, it was to destruction.  She raced about the area, calling names, and soon found her parents and brother.  Her parents had been crushed by the boulders, and Jack lay face-down in a pool of blood.  She threw up violently.  Filled with the urge to leave that awful place, Melissa ran north, weeping.

Translated From Sarconain Highway

When Jasper woke up the next morning, Leila had not come back.  It was past dawn and felt strangely cold.  Jasper went down to a nearby stream and caught a fish.  The fish was almost as dismal as the boy who caught it, for it did not put up much of a fight as he reeled it in.  He cooked it over the open fire, the prospect of food lightening his spirits somewhat.

Around mid-morning, he crept in close to the town, hoping to hear a tidbit of news from the town crier, for the man always gave a list of the people who had been put in prison the day before.  He lay under a hedge as the man's perpetually mournful voice called out the day's news.  When he got to the list of prisoners, Jasper was relieved to hear that Leila was not on the list.  His relief turned to horror a moment later, however, when the town crier announced that in the square, less than an hour hence, a witch from the mountains was to be burned.  Jasper knew that the supposed witch could be none other than Leila.

Racing back to the camp he began to pack things up.  It took him about an hour.  He looked towards town and could not hold in his curiosity.  Soon he was in the square, trying to blend in with the yelling crowd.  He saw the healer talking to the blacksmith and came close to hear the conversation.

"Tis a shame," the healer was saying.  "She doesn't seem witch-like, and the potion she gave me will undoubtedly cure all but the most terrible cases and stop the plague from spreading."

"Is there anything you can do to save her?" asked the blacksmith.

"If I could have talked with the Town Council earlier, perhaps, but around this bloodthirsty mob?  There is nothing I can do." 

Jasper could see nothing past the people in front of him, although he suspected that Leila was being tied to the stake; the pitch of the noise had risen to a near-frenzy.  He was jostled roughly, his shoulder slammed into a high stone wall, and for a brief time, he had a clear view to the center of the square.  Jasper's eyes met Leila's, and he knew that she had seen him.  "Hupago, Jasi, hupago!" she shouted, putting the accent on the second syllable of his name so that it would not seem that she was speaking to a person.  Jasper did not understand what she was saying, but guessed by the intuition of her voice that she wanted him to leave.  He turned and sped through the streets as fast as he could.  The horse snorted nervously as he crashed into the clearing.  He scrambled awkwardly into the saddle and turned the horse's head south.

Soon he came to a trail.  It was sadly overgrown, but had once been neatly paved.   The horse turned to follow it and broke into a trot.  Jasper knew nothing about riding and very nearly fell off.  He hung on for dear life as he jounced up the mountain, following the trail that was marked by the cairns.  He tightened his grip with his knees quite suddenly when he heard something.  Apparently that was a signal to the horse, and it broke into a gallop.  Jasper clung to his mount as it galloped on.  Finally he regained enough of his senses to try to slow down the horse.  He tugged at the reins, and the horse slowed to a canter.

They went on until noon, when Jasper stopped the horse next to a stream.  He slid of the animal and fell to his stomach next to the stream, getting a drink, wetting his hair and washing his face all at the same time.  The horse bent to the water next to him.  He rose to his elbows and caught a breath, then dunked his whole head in the creek.  Pushing himself to his knees, he shook his head vigorously, sending drops of water flying everywhere.

Digging in the saddlebags, he found some dried meat.  He tore into it with animal ferocity, utterly famished, while the horse moved off to eat grass.  At last the edge of his hunger was gone, and he backed off into contented gnawing.  He sat for a while, cleaning out his teeth with his fingernail.  Finally, he clambered back into the saddle and turned the horse's head back towards the trail.

Jasper went on through the afternoon and did not stop until it was dark.  He unsaddled the horse and took off the bridle, then staked the horse out like he had seen Leila do.  Using the saddle as a pillow, he wrapped a blanket around him and went to sleep after a supper of more jerky.  He was awake at dawn the next day, horribly sore from riding and sleeping on the ground.  He put the saddle back on the patient horse, dragged himself astride the animal, and resolved to keep going.

 

A storm broke overhead.  The lightning leaped from the dark clouds like white-hot, many-pronged forks, and the thunder crashed and rolled like a canyon rock slide. The rain, driven by the howling wind, came toward him in waves feeling like a bombardment of small paper balls. It looked as if a giant was flapping a silvery, gauzy sheet. The trees bent and thrashed in the wind, as if they were trying to snatch the pair and spirit them away. Small branches were ripped off as if by the hand of an angry giant and hurled to the wind like missiles, some missing Jasper by mere inches.

The horse shuddered at the thunder.  Jasper saw a cave at the side of the path and headed for it.  There was just enough room for him and the horse.  He huddled against the big animal, sneezing a bit and poking miserably at his soggy clothing.  The horse looked at him with mournful brown eyes, its mane dripping.  An especially big clap of thunder shook the ground near them.  To Jasper's surprise, the horse shoved its head against his chest, trying to hide from the racket.

"Umm...nice horse," said Jasper before he realized that 'nice horse' was a rather ridiculous thing to say.  "You won't tell anyone, will you?" he asked the horse when this came to him.  "I guess not; you're a horse after all."  He patted the creature carefully.  "It's just thunder."

At last the rain stopped, and the sun came out through the dark clouds.  Jasper and the horse continued on their way, Jasper walking because riding was starting to hurt a great deal.  The horse followed him closely, shoving its nose against his shoulders, neck and head in such a friendly way that Jasper began to feel a true liking for the animal. He racked his brain as he walked on, trying to remember what Leila had called this horse.

"Larkspur!" he said suddenly as the name came to him.  The horse pricked its ears forward.  Jasper stopped and turned to the animal.  "Your name's Larkspur, right?"  Larkspur dipped his head in assent.  "I guess horses aren't as stupid as I thought," said Jasper, scratching the Larkspur's forehead and stroking the long neck.  Larkspur butted his forehead against Jasper's, seemly pleased with the attention.  Jasper laughed for the first time in a long time, and the horseman's heart the grief-torn boy never knew he had first began to beat.

He began to get tired of walking and mounted, wincing slightly at the pain.  Larkspur paced quietly along the trail.  The air was clear, the pine trees rustled softly, and delicate flowers bloomed along the trail.  Jasper felt more at peace than he had in a long time.

"Yaahhh!!"  The shout came from his right.  A body collided with his, and he was knocked to the ground.

"I didn't do it!" he cried instinctively, catching sight of a knife and flinging his arms over his face.

"Oh you didn't, did you?" asked an icy voice.

Jasper peeked past an arm and saw a hard face.  In clearer focus was a very sharp knife.

A strong hand pushed his arms down, holding them against his chest.  The knife pricked his throat.  "Where's that horse's owner?" Jasper's interrogator demanded.

"Dead," said Jasper, "Burnt for witchcraft."

"How did you get her horse?"

Jasper tripped over his words as he tried to speak, his eyes never leaving the knife's blade.

"Joshuel," said another voice, "the boy looks innocent enough, and he can't very well escape now that we've found him.  Stand down and let him get his thoughts together."

Joshuel got off Jasper and stood up, and Jasper realized that Joshuel wasn't any older than he was.  Another boy in his mid-teens was behind Joshuel.  Jasper, still trying to gather his scattered wits, remained laying on the ground.  Larkspur trotted over and pawed at him with a hoof.  Jasper climbed slowly to his feet and stroked the horse to calm himself.  Larkspur nudged his head against the boy encouragingly.

"How is it," asked the older boy, "that Leila's horse knows you?"

"I spent about a week with her," Jasper replied.  "I'm Jasper Watson.  Leila found me about a week ago in the woods down there."  He pointed down the trail.  "She saved my life."

"And you couldn't save her's?"

"It was a mob!  What could I do?" Jasper spoke sharply, trying to hide the tears that threatened to surge out of him. He turned away from his captors and rested his head against Larkspur.

The other boys seemed to sense his grief and their manner grew less harsh.  "Have you proof of this?"

Jasper went around to the saddlebags and pulled out the letter.  "Leila suspected that she would be captured.  She sent me up here and told me to tell whoever found me that she sent me and that I have a letter from her to the Sarconian Council."  Jasper held up the letter.  He had gathered his senses and decided that he was speaking with two Scouts.

"What should we do, Jonathan?" Joshuel asked of his companion.

"Take this boy and the letter to the Council," said Jonathan, taking the letter, looking at the handwriting on the front of the letter and affirming it as Leila's.  "It was obviously Leila's intention that whoever found Jasper here should do that.  Jasper, will you give your word of honor not to run away?"  He handed back the letter.

Jasper nodded as he took the letter.  "Yes."

"Alright then."  He and Joshuel whistled, and two horses, each with a single horn protruding from its forehead, ran up.  "Unicorns," said Jonathan in response to Jasper's puzzled expression.  "Mount up."

The two Scouts were equally amused and horrified at Jasper's seat in the saddle.  "You are a disgrace to that horse," said Joshuel bluntly but not unkindly.

"I'm a boatman," said Jasper, flushing somewhat.

Jonathan gave him some pointers that improved his seat instantly, and they set off for Sarconia City.

Joshuel rode beside Jasper, and Jonathan brought up the rear.  Joshuel tossed an unruly bit of hair out of his face and spoke.  "I'm Joshuel Carzim, and that is my brother and tutor, Jonathan.  We're good friends of Leila's family."  He said the final sentence rather pointedly, almost like a threat. 

Jasper looked down, then away, then back into Joshuel's eyes.  "I don't like the way it happened."  

"Neither do I," said Joshuel.  "I guess...I guess you wouldn't be here if you had some hand in her death.  No, you'd know we'd kill you." 

Jasper flinched, remembering the stories.  They can kill you with naught but a look if they're angry.  Naught but a look!  "I suppose if you wanted to kill me, you'd make short work of it." 

"Yes," replied Joshuel.  "But we're not going to kill you.  If you're telling the truth and Leila did send you here, you will have a place among the mountain people." 

Jasper started.  "A place among you?  But I am of the plains." 

"If Leila sent you here, it was her wish.  Last wishes are not to be ignored."  Joshuel urged his unicorn on down the trail ahead of Jasper, leaving the the boy to his own thoughts.

 

Near sunset they broke out of the woods and came to a high plain.  They cantered swiftly across it.  Jasper noted that they were still following the trail that had begun in the foothills outside Brenia, except that now it was a well-tended road, not an overgrown trail.  It seemed to plunge over the cliff on the west side of the high plains, but as the three boys came up to it, Jasper saw that it wound down the face of the cliff.

Jonathan directed his unicorn down the trail, Jasper followed him, and Joshuel brought up the rear.  Looking west, Jasper saw a city.  Huge, beautiful white buildings rose out of the center of the neat streets that were lined with homes and shops.  They rode into the city and came to a curved wall with two gates in it, one facing north-east and one facing north-west.  The entered through the north-east gate into a courtyard that was shaped like a cut off oval.  A fountain cascaded down the wall between the two gates, and the wall turned to pillars beyond which Jasper could see gardens.  They walked down a hall, past a pair of huge doors that towered to their right, and into a circular room lined with statues.  Here they halted, and Jonathan called a page.

The page received his instructions and ran off.  He came back a few minutes later, saying that the Council would see them.  They followed the page out of the room, past another set of huge doors, and into the council chambers.

The council chambers were circular, and half of the circle consisted almost entirely of tall windows with enormous blue curtains.  The other half of the room had beautiful pictures hung on the walls.  There were two thrones facing the doors, and they stood empty.  The council was seated in a circle, some to the right of the thrones, some to the left.  The floor of the room was a mosaic map of the Sarco Mountains, Strianel, Teranse, and the eastern part of Corvan.  Jasper suddenly felt very shy.

A council member questioned Jonathan and Joshuel in a language Jasper did not understand.  They answered respectfully.  The man turned to Jasper and asked,

"Young man, it seems you have a message from Miss Breaker?"

"Yes, sir," replied Jasper softly, his voice magnified by the large room.

"May I have it?"

Jasper nodded and drew out the letter.  He went over to the man and handed it to him.  The man opened it and read it soberly.  "Hm.  What is your name?"

"Jasper Watson."

"When did you meet Leila?"

"About a week ago, sir."

The man nodded, exchanged a glance and a nod with another older council member, then said, "Jonathan, Joshuel, take Jasper to John and Mary Breaker's home."   He turned to Jasper.  "They will welcome you."

The three boys left the council chamber and went back to their mounts. 

"Who are John and Mary Breaker?" Jasper asked.

"Leila's parents," Joshuel replied.

 

They rode out of the city and came to a big stone house.  A girl of about fifteen raced out onto the porch.  "Where's Leila?"

"Gone," said Jonathan.  "He can tell you more."  Jonathan gestured to Jasper.  "I"m sorry, Alethea." He and Joshuel wheeled their unicorns and galloped off.

Alethea swung over the porch railing and walked over to Jasper.  "Who are you?"  Her eyes locked on his, and Jasper found himself fixed in a penetrating gaze.

"Jasper...Watson.  Someday I'm going to get tired of introducing myself."  He flinched.  He had not intended to say that, but Alethea's penetrating eyes pulled the truth out of him.  He felt that if he tried to lie, he would not be able to.

Alethea smiled slightly.  "How did my sister die?"

"They burnt her at the stake...for witchcraft.  There was nothing I could do.  She sent me here."

Alethea nodded and turned away.  "Come on over to the stables and we'll put the horse up."

Jasper dismounted and followed Alethea to the stables.  As she showed him how to rub the horse down she said, "Leila and I were close as sisters could be."  A tear ran down her cheek.

"I can see why," said Jasper.  "She was a good person."

Neither could control their grief, and Larkspur was forced to stand patiently while the two miserable humans cried all over him and each other.

Finally Alethea said, "Well, it wasn't time for Larkspur's bath, but he got one anyway."

They laughed somewhat sadly, finished grooming the horse, and Alethea took Jasper inside to meet the rest of her family.

 

Translated From Sarconain Highway

Author's note - Leila is pronounced Lee-I-la

Leila Breaker halted her horse, looking about her.  Something seemed suspicious.  Then she saw the source of her unrest: a boy who was staggering through the forest, babbling to himself as if he were talking to someone.  Leila dismounted and went over to him.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

The youth responded with a jumble of partially unintelligible words.

Leila pressed a hand to his forehead; it was burning hot.  "You have a fever," she told him.

Another jumble of words was the boy's reply.  Only "Took them off," and "Take me off," could be understood.

"Why are you out here by yourself?" Leila asked.

A long explanation followed, although it was so confused that Leila could be certain of nothing, save that the boy had run away, seemingly because of a girl.

"What's your name?" she asked him.

"Jasper."  The boy said more, but Leila paid little attention to the babble of words.

"Jasper," she said when he had stopped, "you are very sick."

"Spick?  Yeah, I guess." He shrugged.  "You wouldn't believe how annoying she is.  Why they want me to get married I have no clue.  Yup, I'm spick of it all.  They could have at least told Kaia where I was going, but the fish said not to."

"Did he?"  Leila was gently leading Jasper through the forest, looking for a campsite where she could tend to him properly.

"Yeah.  I don't think the fish likes me.  I don't like the fish, although mother used to cook it up tasty.  But I don't like it.  I could eat the fish though, even if I don't like it.  Then they would tell me where she is."

"Because the fish wouldn't be there to tell them not to?"  None of this was making any sense to Leila, although she suspected that various events from Jasper's life were getting mixed up with thoughts of food, which he needed desperately, judging from his appearance.

"Yes.  The fish isn't very nice.  The pie is, though.  Kaia can make pie.  She'd do it right after she went down to the well for water.  The fish wasn't in the well, you understand.  He was in the lake."

"I understand."  They had finally come to a place where they could camp.  "Here, Jasper, sit down and rest awhile."

Jasper complied, obviously tired.  Before Leila had finished setting up camp, he was in a fitful sleep.

 

Jasper opened his eyes slowly.  He was laying on a bed of pine boughs, covered with a blanket.  He turned his head to the side and saw a slender young woman kneeling over a fire.   He tried to push himself upright, but slid back helplessly; he was too weak.

The young woman turned to him.  "Ah, you're awake."

"Where I am I?" Jasper asked.

"In the woods outside of Brenia.  I found you three days ago."

"Three days!"  Jasper tried to sit up again, but the effort was too exhausting.  He fell back with a groan of frustration.

"You have been terribly sick; indeed, I feared you would die.  You could not keep anything down, and you were burning up with fever.  That is why you are so weak."

"I must have caught the plague," said Jasper.  That's why everything was still in the house!  It was contaminated!  I caught it because I went in there!

The young woman nodded.  "You did."

"But if I had such a terrible case of it, why did I not die?"

"I know a few tricks," the young woman replied, laughing lightly.

Jasper shrank back.  "You're a witch?"

"No.  I am a healer, and I come from a place where most of the arts of healing have been preserved."  The young woman leaned over the fire, stirred something in a pot, and nodded with satisfaction.  "When you are a little stronger, Jasper, I'll take you back to the mountains with me.  I must deliver the recipe that tells how to mix a potion that will treat the plague first, though."

The Mountains?!  Like everyone one the plains, Jasper had heard stories of the mountain people - the Sarconians.  They had strange powers and purple eyes.  Some tales told of hideous hags, others told of ravishing enchantresses, powerful wizards, and, most terrifying of all, the Scouts.   The Scouts rode strange horses with horns on their foreheads, carried magical weapons, had the ability to dissapear, and, it was said, they could kill you with naught but a look.  But this woman had no horned horse, and girls never became wizards, so she must be an enchantress.  After all, she knew Jasper's name, and he had never met her before.  "How do you know my name?" Jasper asked.

"You told me many things in your fever, Jasper.  Not only do I know your name, but I know that your parents recently died from the plague, you were separated from your younger sister, and then your guardians engaged you to their annoying daughter.  And it was because of all this that you ran away.  I also know that the Brenians will think me a witch, therefore I must deliver the recipe secretly and slip out.  I would take you back, but your guardians would get you again, and, if I judge correctly, you do not want that."

"No, I don't want to be under their guardianship again, I just don't know if running off with a witch will be any better."

"I'm not a witch, Jasper.  My name is Leila Breaker.  My people, the Sarconians, recently discovered how to treat the plague that torments your village, and so I was sent to pass on the information on the treatment.  "

"And you want to take me back to the mountains with you."

"If you like.  You would be welcome in my family.  Take some time to think about it, Jasper."  Leila dipped some of the contents of the pot into a wooden bowl and came over to Jasper.  Placing an arm behind his shoulders, she lifted him to a sitting position and adjusted her posture so he could lean against her knees and handed him the bowl.  But even the energy expended in feeding himself was too much for Jasper in his weakened state, and after a few bites of the stew, he had to hand the bowl back to Leila and let her feed him.

Over the next several days, Jasper continued to improve.  The bitter-tasting teas that Leila brewed worked wonders with his health, and by the time a week has passed, he was almost well. 

"How did you know how to make the antidote?"  Jasper asked.

"The plague hit the mountains as well," Leila told him, "And we learned that it had been developed and planted by Malfic Vespertine."

Malfic Vespertine.  The name was one of horror to Jasper, for the Aranaran warlord's reputation had spread all though the cities and villages near the foothills of the mountains.  Every now and again a village would be attacked and its people killed or kidnaped by Vespertine's raiders, and the tales the survivors had to tell were grissly - the Aranara were heartless.

"The Scouts caught the agent who had planted the malady, and we learned the poison's makeup.  Then we were able to create an antidote and stopped it from spreading.  When we learned that Brenia was simirally afflicted, I was sent here."

Leila left to deliver the antidote that night.  "If I'm not back by dawn, Jasper, I've been caught," she told him.  "Don't be afraid though.  Wait until the next nightfall for my return.  If I'm not back by then, I have been unable to successfully argue my case and they have refused to release me.  If that happens, pack up the camp and ride south until you hit a trail.  It will be marked by cairns of white stones.  Some of the cairns have collapsed, but you'll be able to find your way.  Follow the trail until you come to a city.  Here is a letter." She handed him a folded sheet of paper that was sealed with wax.  "Go to the white buildings in the center of the city and tell them there that Leila Breaker sent you and you have a letter from her for the Sarconian Council.  If anyone comes upon you before you get to the city, tell them the same thing.  They will be suspicious, but they will not mistreat you.  Now, what are you supposed to do?"

"I am supposed to wait for you until tomorrow night,"  Jasper replied, feeling nervous.

Leila nodded.  "Right.  If I'm not here by then..."

"Pack up camp and ride south to the old trail."

"Yes.  Wait until after midnight or so, however.  And the you can find the trail because..."

"There are piles, I mean cairns, of white stones to mark the way.  How long will it take me to get to the city?"

"A day, maybe two, depending on the trail.  What do you do when you get there?"

"Go to the white buildings in the center of the city and tell them that you sent me with a letter for the Sarconian Council.  I'm supposed to tell anyone who apprehends me the same thing, right?"

"Right.  I will tell you right now that you will be found before you reach Sarconia City.  The Scouts are all over that area.  If they find you, don't run from them.  It will do you no good; they will simply track you down and take you prisoner.  Act as calmly as you can; they will not hurt you unless you attack them or try to run away.  Do as they tell you, Jasper.  Tell them your business, and they will see that the letter gets to the council."

"These Scouts," Jasper asked shakily, "are they...dangerous?"

"Oh yes," said Leila, smiling.  "They are very dangerous.  In fact, there are few people in this world that are more dangerous than they are."

Poor Jasper went pale.  The thought that he would unavoidedly be captured be horned-horse-riding, magic-weapon-wielding, dissapearing people who could kill you by looking at you was not comforting.

"But they are good," Leila reassured him.  "I know several of them personally, and you can be assured that they will not harm you in any way unless you give them good reason to.  If you are with the Scouts, Jasper, you are in good hands."

Jasper was still rather nervous, but decided that he might as well trust Leila.  "Alright."

Leila patted his arm, then slung a small bag over her shoulder and vanished into the gathering dusk.  Jasper watched her go, feeling strangely abandoned.  He dropped down next to the fire, pulled up his knees and wrapped his arms around them, looking pitifully small and forlorn.  There was a sense of foreboding on him that he could not shake.  He watched the fire until it had died down to embers, then sought his bed.  Morning seemed a long way off.

 

Translated From Sarconain Highway

Jasper looked over at Misty, who walked beside him.  "Are you alright?"

"No," Misty replied.

"What's wrong?"

Misty looked down at her light green dress and sighed.  "What do you think is wrong?"

"The engagement?"

Misty nodded.  "Yes."

"It seems that you have been more sad than angry lately."  It was now early fall, and Misty's wrath seemed to have cooled.

"I was angry for so long, but that passed because it wasn't doing any good.  I'm stuck with you for the next four years!  I'm tired of being told that I'm such a lucky girl!  I'm tired of listening to the women go on about what a nice person you are!  I can't take this!"

"I've been going through much of the same thing," Jasper told her, "and I'm tired of it myself.  Are you really that unhappy?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll talk to your parents and ask them to break the engagement."

"They won't listen, and even if they do you'll still be around."

"I had no idea my presence was that odious to you, but even if they do allow us to break the engagement, you won't have to put up with me.  I've spoken with the healer, and, if I can clear the matter with your parents, I'm going to become his apprentice."

"You want to become a healer?"  Misty asked, seeming rather surprised.

"Yes.  I'll be able to help people, save lives and keep what happened to me and my sister from happening to others."

"But healing is so close to witchcraft!"

"It's totally different.  Healers don't cast spells or cause unnatural things to happen to people.  They do what they can to end illnesses and other ailments.  Besides, even if I was accused of sorcery, why would it bother you?"

"You would be executed....and....I don't hate you that much."

"Well, at least I don't have to fear for my life from you."

They were interrupted by a strange man.  "I just heard about your engagement," he said with great excitement, "and I'm not surprised at all.  You are such a lovely couple!"

Jasper and Misty forced smiles to their faces.  "Thank you."

"I saw you walking through the market holding hands, and I said to myself, 'Ah, young love!  It's such a beautiful thing!'  And now, I feel it is my duty, as an artist, to paint such a lovely thing!"  He smiled hugely.  "With your consent of course," he added hastily as if on afterthought.

They were about to refuse when Mrs.  Johnson came up behind them.  "Oh, what a lovely idea!" she exclaimed.  She turned to the painter. "You must come to our home; the gardens there are a perfect background. "

"It would be my pleasure, madam," said the painter, bowing.

"Excellent!!"  Mrs. Johnson clapped her hands in delight.  "Come, come."

 

Mrs.  Johnson thought the young people should change clothes for the painting; Misty was dressed in a simple dress of light green silk, free of all adornment save the medallion Jasper had given her, and Jasper's tunic and leggings were of plain brown cotton.  The painter would have none of Mrs.  Johnson's ideas of magnificent costuming, however.  "Their dress is simple and natural, which is best for such a painting," he said.  "Here, sit beside this fountain like so.  Now,  Miss Johnson, lean your head on young Master Watson's shoulder.  No, you needn't prop yourself up on your arm like that; just lean against Jasper.  Really, stop acting like you aren't fond of each other.  That's better.  Jasper, put your arm around her waist, yes, like that.  You see that bush over there?  Look at it.  Not so solemnly!  Pleasant expressions now, think of your pending wedding day!  Good heavens, Miss Johnson, don't grimace like that!  Think of nice things...ah, now your expression is better.  Stay like that, and don't move."

Jasper watched the bush intently, as he had been told.  Their surroundings had been chosen with great taste.  The fountain next to him and Misty looked quite natural; water cascaded down moss-covered rocks into a small pool.  They were sitting on green turf, and a tree was behind them, along with several flower-covered bushes.  Misty slowly began to relax, and Jasper realized that she had gone to sleep.  The painter didn't seem to mind, apparently having finished Misty's face. 

After some hours of sitting still, the painter rose from his easel.  "I am finished.  Would you like to see it?"

Jasper nodded and shook Misty gently.  "He's finished," he told her, stretching his stiff legs.  The stood and walked over to the easel.

"Is it not lovely?" asked the painter.  "You are some of the best subjects I have ever painted."

"It is lovely," said Misty.

Jasper had to agree, although it seemed like he was looking at some other person besides himself, for he and Misty actually looked endeared to each other in the painting.   Both young people knew, however, that any of Jasper's attempts to break the engagement at this point would be vain.

 

The next day, Misty went down to the lake.  As usual, Jasper ended up accompanying her.

"I don't know what I was thinking!"  Misty wailed when they were alone.  "I can't keep up this act."  Bending, she picked up a rock and flung it violently into the lake.

"I've got to leave this place somehow," said Jasper.  "I'm having as difficult a time as you are.  We both feel like we're being smothered, I know that.  If I'm gone, we'll both be free."

"As if you could just leave," said Misty bitterly.

"I have to try."

 

That night, Jasper waited until the household was asleep, then stalked down the stairs.  Nothing stirred in the big house.  Slinging a small bundle over his shoulder, he silently opened a back door and slipped out into the night.  He crept as quietly as he could through the gardens and let himself out the back gate.  It was usually locked, but Jasper had pilfered the spare key from its hiding place near the door.  He shut the door carefully so it would not clang, reached back through the bars, and slipped the key back into the nook in the stone wall where it was kept. 

Now he would head for the woods.  He slipped through the streets, avoiding the pools of lantern light.  Suddenly he heard footsteps on the road; the watch was coming by.  Jasper sprang to the side and dived under a nearby porch.  The watch passed, oblivious to the young runaway.  As Jasper crawled out from under the porch, his hand came into contact with something that was not dirt.  He picked it up.  It was a small charm bracelet.  There was a hiss behind him, and Jasper scrambled out into the street on is hands and knees, sending gravel flying everywhere.  Snakes often lived under porches here, and not all of them were harmless.  Panting, he knelt in the street and held the charm bracelet in a small beam of moonlight.  He  recognized it immediately.  It was Kaia's charm bracelet; she had lost it some time before.  He let his eyes fall on the porch; they traveled up the house slowly, taking in the dwelling with a measure of affection before it was finally blurred with tears.  Jasper knew this house well.  Both he and his sister had been born here, as well as his father.  It had been built by his grandfather for his grandmother.  It was his home.

Footsteps broke through his thoughts.  The skittering gravel had apparently attracted the attention of the watch, and the man was coming to investigate.  Jasper got out of the street and jumped the low fence into the vegetable garden.  It hadn't been tended, and the weeds were high.  Lying flat on his face in the dirt, Jasper hardly dared to breathe.  He couldn't be caught, especially like this.  He would be thought a thief and spend the rest of the night in the town jail, only to be returned to his guardians after a few days.  The bracelet burned in his hand.  The boots of the watchman stumped about for some time, then stopped right next to the garden fence.  The garden gate creaked open with a squeak.  Jasper was in agony.  Lantern light flashed through the weeds.

"I see ye!" said the watchman.  "There's no use in hiding.  Ye shouldn't be trying to break into homes, and I've caught ye doin' it.  Come on out!"

 Sweat beaded on Jasper's forehead.  Had the watchman seen him?  He had thought he was well-hidden.  Perhaps it was a bluff the watchman was using to play on his nerves.  His nerves surely felt played-with.  He lifted his head just a little and peered through the weeds.  The watchman was holding the lantern aloft and peering about, bending forwards slightly.  At last the man straightened.  "Blasted cats," he said.  "Always creeping about an' gettin' in fights.  Makes me think this place is alive with buglers. " He turned and headed back through the gate, shutting it behind him.

Jasper rose to his hands and knees, but something held him back from standing up.  He wondered if the watchman had really left.  He flattened himself back against the dirt, his cheek against the ground.  There was sense in waiting.  Stealthy footsteps came closer.  Jasper tensed.  Heavy boots thumped on the street.  There was a rustle in the weeds.  The garden gate creaked again.  Jasper closed his eyes tightly, not wanting to see what would inevitably happen.

"Ah, ha!" said the roaring voice of the watch.  I thought someone was in here!  And I've found ye!  Ye thought ye were pretty sneaky, didn't ye?"

This was almost more than Jasper's poor, stretched nerves could take.  It took all of his control to fight down the urge to start screaming an incoherent defence.  "Noooooo..." he moaned softly, waiting for the watchman to grab him by the ear, or hair, or both and drag him off.

 

"I'm not stealing, honest!" 

The voice startled Jasper.  That wasn't him talking, was it?  He opened on eye and looked carefully around.  The watchman was not standing over him.  What is going on? he wondered.  I must be going crazy!

"Tanton, ye're a worthless kid if there ever was one!" the watchman yelled.

Jasper heard a yelp and watched Tanton Gorsen, a well known no-good who spent most of his time getting in trouble, get hauled up from the weeds by his ear.

The watchman shook Tanton.  "We bring ye in almost every night, ye know that?  Can't you keep yer nose out of trouble?"

"Let me go!" whined Tanton.  "I didn't do it!  I didn't!"

"Yeah, right," said the watchman, directing Tanton none too gently through the gate.  "Ye say that every time."

Jasper watched them go.  He'd never liked Tanton, and they had gotten into fights more than once.  But right now Jasper wanted to give the boy an enormous hug.  "Thanks for your help, Tanton," he whispered, "even if you didn't mean to give it to me."  He crawled through the garden to the back door.  The key was hidden right where it always was.  He unlocked the door and stepped into the kitchen.

After closing the door and locking it behind him, Jasper turned to look around.  All of the furniture was still there, much to his surprise, although it was covered with dust.  He walked into the living room.  The rug was still in front of the fireplace.  His mother's rocking chair was to the side, her knitting still in a basket nearby.  Everything was as he remembered it, but the dust made him feel like he was standing in an old painting.   Jasper lifted a blanket from the back of his mother's rocking chair and laid down on the rug.  His mother had made the blanket out of old clothes, and the memories the small scraps of fabric brought back were comforting.  He went to sleep.

 

Something rustled.  Jasper rolled over, and his head hit something.  Slender fingers stroked his face.  He opened his eyes.  "Kaia..."

"Jasi."  Kaia's brown hair framed her face.  She was kneeling beside his head; he had run into her knees.

"Where are you?" he asked, reaching up to touch her face, wondering if he was dreaming.  Moonlight streamed in the window.

Kaia ran her hand through his hair and kissed his fingers as he touched her cheek.  "Right here, beside you, Jasper."

"Are you safe and well?"

"How could I not be safe when I am with you?" she asked, smiling.  "I am well treated by my guardians, if that is what you want to know."

Jasper closed his eyes, relieved.  Kaia continued to stroke his hair.  Jasper decided to ask her if she would come away with him.  He opened his eyes to speak to her.  It was morning. Light drifted through the curtains.  Birds chattered at the rising sun.  Kaia was gone.

Jasper sprang to his feet.  "Kaia?  Kaia!!"  He tore manically through the house, crying his sister's name.  She was nowhere to be found.  Was it a dream? Jasper wondered.  Was she here?  He walked slowly down the stairs.  Then he saw it: a girl's footprint outlined in the dust on the floor.  Not a dream.  He went over to the rug.  On  the floor beside it were more footprints; some his, some Kaia's.   "Why didn't you stay, sis?" he asked the footprints.  They told him nothing.

He left the house, picked a few vegetables from the garden, and headed for the woods.  He felt somewhat nauseated, but decided that it was because his grief and scanty breakfast.

 

Translated From Sarconain Highway

Sorry the end is a little choppy.

Jasper stared up at the ceiling, trying to blink back the tears that filled his eyes.  He'd been afraid of what would happen when he and Kaia were split up, but this was even worse than what he'd originally imagined.  Not only were he and Kaia separated, he did not even know where she was.  Why this decision had been made, he did not know.  When he had tried to find out, he had been banished to his room.  It didn't seem that things could be any worse, but they were.

He had been placed with the Johnsons, one of the village's most wealthy families.  Mr. and Mrs. Johnson had been at least kind, but their daughter, Misty, had apparently taken an immediate dislike for Jasper.

"Jasper, get my shawl," whispered Jasper in a falsetto to the darkness, imitating Misty.  "Jasper, bring me my slippers.  Jasper, get this.  Jasper, fetch that.  Jasper!  What's taking you so long?  A turtle would be faster than you!  Hurry up!"  He sighed heavily.  "What does she think I am?  Her page?  I don't mind getting things for her, but she could at least be nice about it."

 

"JAASPEER!!!"  Misty burst into the sunlit room and stood in the doorway, hands on her hips.  "Why didn't you light the fireplace in my room this morning?"

"Was I supposed to do that?" Jasper asked groggily, blinking sleep from his eyes.

"YES!"  Misty folded her arms, the sleeves on her satin-lined velvet dressing gown rustling softly.  "WELL?"

Jasper sat up.  "You could have told me last night."

"You stupid sod!  You should have known without me telling you!  Do you expect me to wake up to a cold room?"

"I woke up in a cold room for the  last thirteen years, so I think you can take it for one morning.  It's not like it's going to kill you."

Misty's eyes flashed with rage.  "How dare you speak to me that way!"

"Beg pardon, your highness." Jasper replied sarcastically, his nerves frayed by being so rudely jarred from his sleep.  "I will attempt to pay closer attention to your ladyship's most minuscule needs in the future."

Misty flung a pillow at him and stalked from the room, slamming the door behind her.

Jasper moaned and slid from the bed, grabbing his tunic from a chair.  Misty's wailing voice carried up to him through the house.

"Mother!  Jasper is so cruel to me!"

"In what way, dear?" asked Mrs. Johnson.

"He's terribly insensitive!"

"And what does she call bursting into someones room, waking them up, and demanding why they didn't do something they didn't know they were supposed to do?" Jasper muttered to himself.

Misty's complaints continued.  "You'd think that, having a sister of his own, he'd be more understanding.  But no!  He has no sympathy at all for the delicate state of my poor nerves."  Misty began sobbing.

"You poor dear," Mrs. Johnson said gently.  "Jasper really must apologize for that.  But you mustn't be to hard on him.  You know he's just been through alot, and his nerves probably aren't doing a whole lot better than yours."

"What has he been through?"  Misty sounded genuinely confused.

"His parent's just died, darling."

"Oh.  I'd forgotten about that."

"Come, come.  We'll go talk to him now."

Jasper sighed and grabbed the doorknob.  "I might as well get this over with."  He pulled open the door and entered the hall, meeting Mrs. Johnson and Misty.  "Good morning, Mrs. Johnson.  Misty, I'm sorry for being so sarcastic, but I had just woken up and wasn't entirely collected.  I have made a mental note to make sure the fireplace in your room is burning when you wake up in the morning, and, while I'm at it, I'll put your slippers nearby so they'll be warm.  Misty, considering the delicate state of your nerves, would you like me to go visit the healer and see if he has a tonic that might help you?"

Misty remained silent for a moment, trying to figure out if Jasper was actually apologizing, or if this was even more sarcasm.  Mrs.  Johnson filled the silence.

"There, you see, Misty?  He just wasn't awake when you spoke with him and, no offence, Jasper, boys will not always think before they speak when they would rather be sleeping."

The kind tone of Mrs. Johnson's voice calmed Jasper's anger somewhat.  "No offence taken, Mrs. Johnson," he said pleasantly. "This has already been pointed out to me.  I have female relatives."

"You are such a dear boy.  And looking after Misty's fireplace!  How kind of you!  Now, breakfast is in the south courtyard.  Brush your hair and be there in fifteen minutes."

"Yes, ma'am."

Misty and Mrs.  Johnson headed off down the hall.  "Really, Misty, you shouldn't be so fast to judge the boy," he heard Mrs. Johnson say.  "He's really taken you into his heart as a second sister.  His idea about the tonic is really quite good, I have the feeling he is incredibly clever.  We'll talk about it over breakfast."

"A second sister, hmm?" said Jasper softly.  "Maybe, what what a rotten disposition!  I'm glad we're not blood relations." 

 

Things did not improve over the next few days.  Mist tormented Jasper endlessly, though she did it behind her parent's backs.  Only when Jasper reached the end of his patience and retaliate did they find out that anything was going on, and then the punishment fell mostly, if not entirely, on Jasper's shoulders.  This did nothing but give Misty more things to torment Jasper about and made him all the more miserable.

And so Jasper was very pleased when Misty began to near her thirteenth birthday.  The Strianelians always made a big deal over a young person's coming into teenage-hood; Misty was very occupied with preparations for the celebration and had little time to devote to torturing Jasper.  She was getting a new wardrobe, her room was being redecorated, and she was helping with party arrangements.  Jasper was quite content to stay out of the way and study various books.

The party was one any girl would have been proud of.  It was in a garden, for summer yet lay upon the plains.  Lanterns swung from the tree limbs, illuminating the dusk and the mosaics that decorated the pathways.  Jasper sat at a table with Misty and her parents.  Dinner was over and the servants were clearing away the plates.

Mr. Johnson rose from his chair.  "We are here to celebrate my daughter's advancement into teenage-hood."  He smiled at his daughter.  "May your years be long and happy."

Everyone applauded.  Misty, resplendent in red satin, gazed about, smiling graciously, the diamonds about her neck, dangling from her ears and laced through her braids catching the lantern light.

Misty's father continued.  "I also wish to announce the engagement of my daughter."

Murmurs of shock came from the guests, and Misty looked about, curious.

"Misty, your mother and I have given a great deal of thought to this choice, and we are certain we have found a young man who will care for and protect you.  Jasper?"  he held out his hand towards Jasper, beckoning.

Jasper thought he was going to faint as he rose from his seat and came to stand beside his guardian, feeling bewildered.  Misty gave him a look of whithering hatred.

Mr.  Johnson took Misty's hand and lifted her from her chair.  "I do this with your best interests in mind, my dear."  He gestured for Jasper to hold out his hand.

Misty went stiff as her hand was laid in Jasper's.  He could tell that it was taking all of her acting ability to keep a pleasant expression and not slap him.

"May you be ever faithful to each other."  Mr.  Johnson gave Jasper a quick meaningful look.

Jasper suspected this look meant that he should do something endearing to demonstrate his supposed affection for his future bride.  Leaning over, he gave Misty a kiss on the cheek.  The guests applauded with approval.  Misty, painting a smile on her face, returned the gesture.

"I'm going to slap you for this," she whispered in his ear.

He smiled.  "I suspected you would," he whispered back.  "It comes as no surprise."

A long drawn out, "Awwwwwww..." came from the ladies in the group, who seemed to think that the two were exchanging sweet nothings.

Mr.  Johnson whispered something to the two young people, waving a hand discreetly in the direction of the dancing platform.  They gulped down their disgust and stepped onto the platform as Mr.  Johnson called to the musicians.

Misty seemed to relax slightly during the course of the dance.  Jasper knew she loved dancing, and this was one of the very few dances he was familiar with.  Kaia had learned it somewhere, and it had always given her great delight when her brother consented to guide her across the living room floor in its graceful steps.  He found it was easier to dance with Misty than with his sister, for Misty was taller than Kaia and more graceful.  He noticed that some of the boys in the group were watching him with profound envy, though this did not surprise him; he had the most beautiful partner in the group by far.  Not that I'd mind letting them dance with her, he thought. They'd enjoy it much more than me.

The party broke up late that night.   Jasper and Misty headed back to the house while Mr. and Mrs.  Johnson bid farewell to the guests.  Once they were out of earshot, Misty whirled angrily towards Jasper, drawing her hand back.

"Before you slap me, Misty," said Jasper, "Let me say one thing."

"Go ahead," said Misty tightly.

"I didn't know anything about the engagement until your father announced it tonight."

"Do you have more to say, or can I slap you now?"

"You can slap me now." 

Misty slammed her palm across Jasper's cheek as hard as she could.

"Ow."  Jasper rubbed his cheek, which was slowly turning red.

Misty leaned toward him.  "You are one of the last people that I would marry,"  she said through clenched teeth.

"I suspected that.  Listen, I don't want to marry you either, but," Jasper threw up his hands helplessly, "I have no say in the matter until I'm seventeen!"

Misty thought for a moment, then folded her arms. "I'll make a deal with you, Jasper.  I'll play my part as your betrothed so long as you promise to release me from our engagement as soon as you are of age."

"I promise."

"Promise?"

"On my parent's memory." 

"That's good enough for me."  She turned to go.

Jasper caught her arm.  "Do you promise to hold up your end of this deal?"

Misty slid a slender silver band set with a ruby off her finger.  "Here is my vow."

Jasper took the ring, then reached up and unclasped a slender chain from around his neck.  A medallion hung from it.  It was a simple disk of silver with a weeping willow tree engraved on it.  Tiny pieces of some green, simi-precious stone had been used for the leaves of the tree, and some brown stone had been used for the trunk.  "Here is mine.  I don't know where it came from.  It was found in my old house." 

Misty took the medallion and looked at it.  "The gem.  It's jasper."

"It is?" 

"Yes."

They headed off to their rooms.

Translated From Sarconain Highway

Well, as Isliwen has reminded me, it is September and time for more of my story.  But, though I love 'Proeiden Tessares', 'Sarco' is my baby, my pal and my sweetheart all rolled into one and therefore gets all the writing time that I have between schoolwork and volleyball. 

Two years ago, on September 3, 2006, I posted the first half of the first chapter of my newborn story.

I suppose it all started the day I was hiding from Misty Johnson in the big lilac bush next to the marketplace.  There was nothing Misty loved more than her cat, Fluff, and I had been unlucky enough to step, quite accidentally, on Fluff's tail.  Although I had apolgized most profusely to Misty, I did not know of one thing that had been done to her, or her cat, for which she had not gotten revenge.

      So there I was, hiding in the lilac bush, sincerely hoping Misty wouldn't find me, when I heard the window above me being thrown open.  There followed a great amount of yelling, and while I was wondering what was going on, a girl landed next to me.  She landed lightly, as one used to jumping from second story windows, and this proved to me she was not Misty Johnson.  I had no time to think further, for the girl turned and saw me.

     "Who are you?" she asked, eyeing me warily.

     "Not someone who is going to kill me, if that's what you mean," I replied.  "Why were you jumping out of the window up there?"

     "I...I had some complications with some negotiations that could have been dangerous to my health.  The complications were dangerous to my health not the negotiatons, if you follow me."

     "I get you.  What is your name?"  The girl tensed, and her blue eyes narrowed.  She reached up with her left hand and flicked a lock of golden-brown hair behind her shoulder, keeping her other hand close to the hilt of her knife.

     "Why would you want to know my name?" Her voice reminded me of the ice that formed on the surface of Brenia Lake during the coldest part of the winter.

     "Just curious," I said apologetically.  "You look like a girl my sister spent alot of time talking to, two, three years back". 

     "What is your sister's name?"

     "Kaia.  Kaia Watson.  A trifle small for her age, but that didn't make her any less feisty."

      "Alethea Breaker.  I'm a good friend of your sister.  You would be Jake?"

      "Yes.  Have you seen my sister lately?"

      "Yesterday."

      "Is she well?"

      "Yes.  Quite well."

      "You people of the mountains are hated my many here.  What sort of message or negotiations were so important that you risked your life to bring them?"

      "The Aranara are on their way to attack the village," she said

      "But that's..." Alethea looked deeply into my eyes, "...entirely possible!"  I clapped my hand over my mouth.  I had meant to say "entirely impossible".  Then I heard yells from the north-west side of town.

A lot has happened since then, and things have changed.  The characters are the same as they always have been, although 'Jake' has become 'Jasper'.  I am going to rebegin this story.  I have about nine chapters of a new beginning written already.  The action doesn't start right off, like in the first draft, but I do like it and hope others find it to be remotely interesting.

 

Prologue

 

Jasper Watson peeked quietly around the door frame.  Beyond the door, in the bedroom, his parents, George and Anna Watson, lay ill.  A healer bent over them.
"Jasi?"  Jasper's eleven-year-old sister ducked under his arm and leaned against him.  "Are they better?"
Jasper looked down at her.  "I don't know, Kaia."
"They will get well, right?"
Jasper forced a smile.  "Of course.  The healer knows his work."  He said the words as much for himself as for his sister, though he had a terrible feeling that they were empty.
Kaia smiled angelically, hugged her brother, and ran outside, brown hair flying.  The fake smile vanished from Jasper's face as soon as she was out of sight.  He didn't like to lie to his sister, but, at thirteen, he felt some responsibility to shield her from the horror of the plague that had struck the village of Brenia.  He turned back to the room, leaning against the door frame.  The healer turned and saw him.
"Go on and play," he told Jasper.  "They'll be better."
Jasper shook his head.  "It doesn't look like it.  Kaia's out of earshot.  I want the truth."
The healer sighed and put his hand on Jasper's shoulder.  "They have the worst case that I have seen yet.  I'm sorry.  I've done all I can."  The healer went past him and left the house.
Jasper went upstairs and climbed out the window of his room onto the roof.  He pulled up his knees and rested his chin on them.  If the healer was stumped, all was lost, for the healer knew almost every cure.  He didn't know what would happen to him and his sister if their parents died, but he doubted that it would be good.   He sat there for a long time, thinking.  The sun set, the sky darkened.  Jasper curled up in the angle where the gable met the roof and fell asleep.
The sound of feet scraping on the shingles woke him.  There was a soft rustle, and Kaia lay down on her stomach beside him.  "Jasi, there are a bunch of people in Mum and Daddy's room.  They're so quiet, and they won't let me in.  What's happening?"
"I..."  Jasper rolled over on his back and looked up at the starry sky, trying to decide how to break what he knew to his sister.
"Are Mum and Daddy going to die?"
He looked over at her.  "I hope not...but it could happen."
Kaia laid her cheek against the rough shingles.  "Why?  I don't understand."
"Neither do I."
"Can we sleep up here tonight?" Kaia asked. " The house is so quiet and scary."
"Yeah," said Jasper.  "Wait here."  He slid down and crawled back through the window.  He picked up a few blankets and pillows, shoved them out onto the roof, then climbed up after them.  He laid a some of the blankets where he had been napping.  "Here, Kaia."  He handed her a pillow.  She curled up in the angle of the gable, watching the summer sky.  Jasper threw down his blankets nearby and laid on them but couldn't sleep.  He was thinking too hard.  With a groan, he rolled over, trying to quiet his mind.  Sometime during the night, he fell asleep.
 
He was awakened in the early morning by a slow, steady chant.  He rose to his knees on the roof.  Black-cloaked figures were gravitating towards the house.  Jasper crawled to the peak of the roof and looked over as they slowly congregated around the door, striking sticks together in a slow rhythm as they softly chanted.  Kaia crawled up beside him.
"Jasi?  What's happening?"
Jasper put an arm around her.  He had promptly recognized the death chant and knew what had happened, but he could not form words.
"Jasi?"
A stretcher draped in white was being carried out of the house.  The sheet was lumpy, both children could tell that it was draped over a body.
Kaia's fingers dug into Jasper's arm.  "Jasi?" she whispered frantically.  "That isn't....?"
Another stretcher followed the first.
Jasper choked, and his chest constricted.  Kaia buried her face in his arm.  "Oh, Jasi..."
Jasper shook her off, slid down the roof and swung back through the window.  There was someone in the room.
"Oh, there you are, Jasper..."
The woman continued talking, but Jasper did not hear her.  He pushed passed the person, raced down the stairs, and burst into his parent's room.  It was empty.  He slid to the floor, staring stupidly at the empty space in front of him.  The healer came into the room.  Jasper looked up at him.  "No.  It can't happen."
"But it does," the healer said gently.  "And there is nothing we can do to stop it.  We can hinder it, but stop it?  Never."
"But it's not fair!"
"I'm not saying it is.  But unfair things happen to the best people.  Life has never been fair to anyone.  By the way, where were you last night?  We could not find you."
"On the roof."
The healer leaned down and helped Jasper to his feet.  "A roof is a comforting place.  It seems far from everything down here and nearer to heaven and He that dwells there.  I suppose your sister was there with you?"
Jasper nodded, although he did not understand all of the healer's words.
"We should go get her."  Putting his arm around Jasper's shoulders, he directed the boy up the stairs.  A women met them on the stairs.
"Now, Jasper, about you and your little sister-" she said, as if she were talking about some fish she'd bought at the market.
"Not now, Gertrude," said the healer.  "I will tell him a little later."
"Oh.  Alright."  The woman passed them and went down the stairs.
"Tell me what?"  asked Jasper.
The healer looked grim.  "Shall we go up to the roof?"
They headed into Jasper's room and climbed out the window onto the roof.
Kaia slid down to them.  "Jasi?  Are Mum and Daddy...?"  Kaia could not form the final word.
Jasper nodded.  "Yes."
"Let's sit down," said the healer.
They all sat down on the gable.
"Since your parents are dead, we needed to find families that would care for you," the healer slowly began.
"Families?  Not a family?"
"Families.  You're going to be...I'm sorry...split up."
"NO!"  Jasper's fists clenched as if he were preparing to fight whoever had made this awful decision.
"There is no family that will take on two children at once.  I asked around, tried to find one, but I had no luck.  I'm really very sorry, but that's how it is."
"But why?"  Kaia asked. "Jasi and I...we've got nothing really but each other now.  If Jasi goes away, I won't have anybody."
"Well, maybe some people don't understand what it means to be together.  I wish for your sake that it wasn't this way."
"Thanks," Jasper said quietly.