"A Sorean Journey (Chapter 2)" by Victoria Rebecca Holtom

He will run until he can run no more (Chapter Two)

Lasamer had hoped to catch up to her soon but that was not to be. His horse had stumbled on a large patch of loose rocks a mile back and he was now walking, carrying most of his belongings on his back. He had been too anxious to catch up to her and had not paid any attention to the road surface. The horse had lost his front left leg down a small hole and fallen to the ground. Lasamer had been thrown from the horse's back and he had sprained his wrist trying to stop his fall. His first thought had been to get back on the horse and carry on with the pursuit but it soon became obvious that the horse was lame and carrying Lasamer's possessions did not make it any better. He knew that he could not stop; she would definitely be out of reach then, so he pressed on, on foot. He found himself making very slow progress along the road to Ost Lein. He wondered if that was her destination or if she were going to turn off the main highway at some point to a little village or town. If she did leave this road he would have no way to know that and he could miss her completely. Lasamer considered giving up on her and going for the other two. They would be much easier to find as he knew their names, where they lived and he was a little acquainted with them, but which to go for first? Did he turn west and travel to Ton Nilse for 'The Cat' or did he carry on southwards into Remnasi for the blacksmith's apprentice? If he went south there was a good chance he would still find his nameless friend.
No. He had to find her before moving on. He could not leave anyone behind now that the quest had started. He needed to find her and explain everything. Hopefully she would understand the situation and would agree to journey towards Remnasi with him. He had a feeling that they would not be just 'two' for very long. There would be ten all together. He hoped it would not be too hard to find them all. He also hoped that they could all get along well. It would not be easy to fight an all-consuming evil if your companions were bickering the whole time.
Lasamer travelled at a slow walk for a few hours. Taking in the scenery around he began to feel homesick. The gently rolling hills and grassland were dotted with a few trees and bushes. It was too sparse. There should be more trees. He needed to be surrounded by them, the leaves rustling gently in the breeze. He had to work hard to keep the feeling of open space from overwhelming him. He was not usually like this. The scenery was beautiful and he had a great appreciation for all the different types of land he had seen on his travels. He had no problem with open spaces. Maybe it was just the shock of yesterday, maybe he had not been home in too long, who knew? Lasamer finally decided to take a break. He had not eaten at breakfast and his hunger was catching up to him. He stopped and rested in the shade of a solitary tree just off the roadside. Noticing his horse lay down on the ground immediately, Lasamer knew that they would not be moving again soon. Opening his pack he took out some of his provisions and started to eat. Closing his eyes he leant back into the tree. It was very easy to believe he was back home with the feel of the rough tree bark at his back. He listened carefully and he could hear a few leaves on the wind. He wished he could open his eyes to see his home, all the trees around him, the soft forest floor, his best friend sat by his side. Lasamer opened his eyes to find some more food. A lovely, juicy, golden pear caught his eye and he quickly finished it off. He tried to turn his thoughts away from home and the Forest of the Dryads. Most of his memories were bittersweet and upsetting. He longed to be able to go home but he still was not ready to face those memories head on. They would not disappear though and he drifted closer to home in his mind.
The Forest of the Dryads covered a large area in Salsera and the resident Dryads boasted that it was the oldest forest in the world. It had once covered most of the continent but over the years natural progression had taken away many trees and men had also come with saws and axes and gravel to build roads and houses. That had come to a stop quite a while ago when the Dryads had forced a treaty with the rulers of Salsera. There was a law that no tree was to be cut down if it was within the boundaries of the country. One reason that the Dryads fought for this law was that each tree had a bond with one Dryad. The force of life linked them. If one died then so did the other. The forest did have other creatures living within its shade and comfort but the Dryads were the most numerous and they took it upon their shoulders to look after the forest and all who made it their home. Thinking of the bond between Dryad and tree sent Lasamer to his own. Being only half Dryad his bond was not as strong as others would be. He used to be incredibly jealous about this when he was younger but wished at the moment that he had no bond at all. His tree called to him he felt the pulling off towards the north-west and tried intently to ignore it. It would have been impossible if he were full-blooded; very few full Dryads could leave the area of their tree for a great period of time, Lasamer only managed it because he was half human. How long had he been gone now? He wondered. Eight years he realised eventually. He remembered the day well. Lasamer tried to stop the memories but they overtook him and he lost himself in the past.

“Lasamer, Lasamer.” He could hear his mother calling for him but he ignored her.
“Carry on, Sonyer,” Lasamer said in his squeaky voice. He was embarrassed at how awful it sounded at the moment and hoped it would settle down soon, but he knew that his best friend did not mind.
“So Daul created all the magical creatures of Salsera.” Sonyer was explaining the mythical origins of the different animals known as Felspihr. She loved these special animals and was enjoying sharing her knowledge with an eager listener, especially as it was Lasamer.
“But why did he create only one of each?” asked Lasamer.
“I don't know,” replied Sonyer. “There is only ever one of each of these species alive at once. There is a story of a time when there were more than one but I do not believe that.”
“Then how can they have a baby?” Even at fourteen years old Lasamer understood about 'the fairies and the flowers'.
“It is part of the magic that Daul created,” Sonyer went on to explain. “Take the horse for instance. The horse is the origin for two of the Felspihr: the unicorn and the winged horse. Only one of each is ever in existence at one time. If the unicorn which is alive at the moment were to die then the next foal to be born of a horse somewhere nearby would be a unicorn foal. The same is true with the winged horse, the gryphon, the dragon.”
Lasamer was fascinated by the subject and wanted to ask more but he heard his mother calling again. To keep out of trouble he should really go to her. He stood up from the ground and looked in the direction of the shout.
“Lasamer, where are you?”
“I'm here, mother,” he shouted back. “Got to go Sonyer, see you later,” he said quickly to the disappointed girl.
“Bye,” she called after the running boy. He heard her voice fading into the forest and his mother's becoming clearer. When Lasamer finally came upon his mother she seemed very cross with him.
“Where have you been?” she shouted but did not give him time to answer before carrying on. “You know we are off to visit your father's family today.”
“I'm sorry, mother. I suppose I lost track of time. I can be ready to go soon.”
“Good. Your father wants to set of as soon as possible.”

Lasamer sprawled in the cart attached just behind his parents' seats and stared up at the sky. He tried to imagine shapes in the clouds. That one was like a pig, that one was a snake and over there was a funny looking boot. The clouds soon disappeared and he was left staring at a plain blue sky. Boring. So he shut his eyes and just listened to the sounds of the countryside. The wind whispered in the trees. He tried to listen to what it said but could not understand it. He obviously did not have the gift of interpretation. Only a very few Dryads did and even then the other Dryads were sceptical about whether it was real or a sham.
The gentle rocking of the cart was very soothing and relaxing. The whispering sound mixed with the birds' singing and sent Lasamer to sleep. He was cruelly woken from a dream about riding in the sky on the winged horse when his father pulled tightly on the horses' reigns. The cart stopped immediately and the horses pranced around seeming a little disturbed. Lasamer opened his eyes just in time to see a tall, bulky man grab hold of his ankle and pull him to the back of the cart. Once at the edge a short, sharp yank pulled him to the ground. He could hear his parents being pulled from the cart also and he became very afraid. Lasamer tried to rise from the ground but a large boot pushed him back down. He did manage to see that there were about a half dozen men all dressed in dark bandits' clothes and wielding swords, daggers or large tree-branch clubs. Straining his head to one side he caught a glimpse of his father being wrestled to the ground. He could not see his mother anywhere though. He began to panic even more. He could hear her screams but they were getting further away. His father screamed after her. “Lasen, LASEN!” But all he got in return were plain screams and a punch in the mouth from one of the bandits.
Two men suddenly dragged Lasamer round the other side of the cart and he could see nothing of his father anymore. He was being pulled to his feet, one man on each arm, when one of the bandits started to speak. It was the one without the beard. Lasamer's heart missed a beat as he saw the man fingering the point of a dagger, which was sticking out of his belt. He could also now see that the man was looking, very intently, at his father who was now lying face down in the dust with a large knee keeping him there.
“You will bow before Stolok, God of All. You will live your life for him and do as he commands. You belong to him.” Lasamer was shocked. He had expected a demand for money or food. He could not find the words to say anything. Obviously his father was in the same situation as there was no reply from anyone. The leader took this silence as agreement with his statement and started to 'preach'. “Stolok, God of All, has a great task for all his followers. You are blessed that he has chosen you to assist him. Our victory will be glorious and once we unite the land of Sorea once more, Stolok will, truly, be God of All. All will serve him and he will rule all. Is that not a glorious future for us all?”
All his followers gave a shout of agreement and raised their weapons in the air. Lasamer felt his body begin to shake with dread. What was going to happen to them? Would they kill his father when he refused to bow to them? Would they kill him because he was a boy and of no use to them? And what on earth were they doing to his mother? He could still hear some very faint screams from her and they sent shivers down his spine. Suddenly his father was in the air and jumping on the leader. He knocked him to the ground and was banging his head into a rock. One of the men holding Lasamer let go and went to aid his leader. Soon there were four men piled on top of his father who was still pinning the speaker to the ground. Lasamer's heart began to pound faster and faster. He felt the hand on his arm loosen a little and he grabbed the opportunity. Kicking his captor in the shins he then grabbed the club from his other arm and proceeded to hit him around the head. The bandit was soon unconscious on the floor. Lasamer turned to where his father was buried under the men just as they managed to pull him off the leader. They proceeded to hold him up and each man took turns to kick and punch him. No-one noticed that Lasamer was now free and crouched behind the cart watching in terror. One man with a particularly long and dirty beard turned even more violent and pulled out his dagger. Just as it slid into his father's stomach Lasamer saw that he had been noticed. His father was staring at him and he managed to mouth one word. “Run.” He did as he was told immediately.
Lasamer ran and ran until he was sure that he was far enough away and that no-one had followed him. He crawled into some tightly packed bushes and lay down on the ground. Sounds came to him, washed over him. Sounds he had heard as he fled, and he cried. He wept tears of relief at his escape, tears of horror at the things happening to his parents and they eventually turned to tears of grief as he realised he would never see them again. When he was all cried out he fell asleep. Waking much later he found that it was dark. Terror gripped him again but he forced it away. Listening carefully he decided it was safe to leave his hiding place when he heard nothing. Crawling out of the bushes he felt his tree calling to him. He wanted to go to its leafy branches and stay in its shade forever but he resisted. He felt angry and rebellious. He would not do what the world expected of him. He would go where he wanted and do as he pleased.
Lasamer set off walking. To where, he did not know or care.

He awoke with a start and wondered where he was. His jumping heart soon calmed down when he realised he was safe. His injured horse lay a short distance away and he was on the trail of a head-strong, highly-strung girl. He started to worry about how he was to catch up to her now. He could not travel fast and did not know if she would stay on the road to Ost Lein or wander off somewhere else. Lasamer felt a sudden urgency. He had to find her soon or things could become more complicated than they needed to be. He felt his tree calling to him as he stood and faced south. It was a strong pulling off to the west. That was a little strange as it should be more north-west from where he was now. It was also much stronger than it had ever been before and it was difficult to ignore. He managed to keep looking south down the main highway and it eventually faded. He carefully checked his horse and coaxed him to his feet. Walking seemed okay but riding was definitely out of the question.

At midday Kayje turned off the main highway to Ost Lein and wandered along a track which took her by small fields and through a few trickling streams. Soon after setting off from Ost Rasta she had felt a calling from the west. Confused by this she had tried to ignore it all morning but the pulling had increased and seemed very urgent so Kayje had decided to follow it and had turned onto the next road pointing in the correct direction. She had passed by much open countryside and so when the scenery started to indicate farmland Kayje began to have hopes of meeting another living person. She felt the need for a little company and conversation. A little farther up the track Kayje came across the farmhouse and saw the farmer and his wife working in the yard.
“Hullo there,” said the farmer. “How're you?”
“I am well, thank you. And you?” Kayje replied.
“Well, it's been raining too much and so the barn's flooded and some of the crops have drowned. M' backs playing up today and it looks like more rain later on. Otherwise Lohn seems to have blessed our little home here.”
Kayje did not feel at all discouraged by the man's moaning. Farmers were like that everywhere.
“Have you been travelling far, dear?” asked the old lady.
“I left Ost Rasta early this morning. I have not stopped yet.”
“Oh, then you must be hungry. Let's stop for some food Lonis? This young lady can join us.”
“Oh no, I would not want to impose.”
“No imposition at all m' dear. Actually, it's a good thing you came along or he would not stop for food all day.” The farmer's wife leant her sweeping brush against the side of the cottage and started towards the open door leading into the kitchen. Just at the doorway she turned back and, seeing that Kayje had not moved, she tried further to ease her. “Come now, dear, you can tie your horse and mule on the post over there. They'll be as safe as a Sorean Summer. Come on then, climb down and come warm yourself by the fire in the kitchen.”
Kayje suddenly felt weary and in need of rest and sustenance so she did as the woman suggested. An idle thought crossed her mind as she was tying up Lohnspihr. Looking to the now tied up mule she thought, 'I should think of a name for little mule here, I should? He is a little sweetie and deserves a name.' She did not have time to think of one now as the old lady was at the doorway again, encouraging her inside. Kayje had no doubt about how welcome she was but spoke severely to herself as a reminder not to take advantage of the kind couple's hospitality. An hour or two at the most, no more.
When everyone was settled by the fire the farmer started the conversation again.
“Well, miss, I dare say it's time to introduce ourselves properly. My name's Lonis Tahl an' this 'ere's my wife, Vosi.” He then sat back in his chair and waited for his guest to introduce herself.
“My name is Kayje Abenahl and I am honoured to be invited into your home. If I can repay you in any way…”
“Don't be silly dear,” said Vosi, “just your company is repayment enough. We do not get many visitors out here. Most people use the main roads to travel to Ost Lein or Sorilea.”
“Well, I was on the main road to Ost Lein but, suddenly, I just felt like turning off to the west.” Realising she had been talking in a strange dreamy voice she shook her head and stopped to take a sip of her hot tea trying to bring herself round. Before she could say anything more the farmer's wife jumped in again.
“So, tell us of Ost Rasta. We seldom get news of the rest of the country.” She relaxed into her chair and waited for Kayje to speak.
“Well, the biggest news is that Baron Rasta is in the process of choosing a successor. The city is preparing for the festival once the training period is over. It is probably still a few months off. This baron is a stickler for tradition and perfection. It will be a long time before he will be satisfied with one of the candidates.”
“The current Baron came riding this way, ooooh, must be four years ago now, was it? Lonis?” Vosi turned to her husband to confirm this.
“Oh yes, four years at least. He was checking all the dwellings under his rule. We still had a chat about the farm. He seemed to know a lot about farming.”
“Well he did grow up on a farm before moving to Ost Rasta as a merchant twenty years ago,” Kayje mentioned.
“So, when do you think the celebrations will start, dear?” asked Mrs Tahl.
“The Baron is testing seven candidates at the moment. It has been one month and he has not rejected any yet. As I said, he takes his time over every decision. He has made Ost Rasta into a more prosperous city than ever before but the Baron himself is quite a bore.” Kayje stopped there thinking she may have said too much. She really hoped that the farmer and his wife had not picked up on her familiarity with the Baron. If they had, they said nothing.
“So how long were you in Ost Rasta for?” asked Vosi.
“I just stayed one night this time. I wanted to keep moving.” Kayje decided to elaborate more for the sake of her hosts, but told them nothing too revealing about herself. “I have been feeling restless lately. I left home two days ago and do not plan to go back soon.”
“Sounds like you're running from something to me,” said the old lady.
“What makes you say that,” Kayje was quite defensive but made sure not to lie. She did not like any untruths.
“Oh, I don't know. You wantin' to keep moving and not wantin' to go back home yet.”
Kayje gave a nervous little laugh, “It does sound a little like that, my, yes it does.”
The conversation carried on through a lovely filling meal of broth and dumplings with large chunks of bread. Kayje managed to steer it away from questions about her home and family in most cases. When the subject of the annual tournament in Ost Lein was mentioned Kayje encouraged this instead.
“Yes, it should be a wonderful festival this year. At least twenty young men are to be knighted in honour of His Majesties fiftieth birthday. I would love to go and watch all the competitions.” Vosi seemed to drift off into a world of her own and her voice became quiet and wistful. “All those knights in armour, fighting for the attention of the princesses.”
“When does the tournament start?” asked Kayje
“In a week,” replied the farmer. Kayje was surprised; she had thought he had fallen asleep in his chair by the fire. “There will be a week of small competitions and then on King Taclon's birthday the major events will take place and twenty lucky young men will become 'Sir'.“ Lonis now seemed to be in his own world. “I used to dream I was 'Sir Lonis' when I was a boy.” After a few minutes of silence from all, the farmer pushed himself out of his seat. “Time to get back to work.” He turned to Kayje and apologised for having to leave his guest.
Kayje and Vosi chatted well into the afternoon, mostly about Vosi's family. She was very proud of her boys. The oldest was a prosperous merchant in Sorilea with the youngest helping him to expand the business. He, the youngest, did not have any intention of staying in the ancient capitol long but wanted to come back and work on the farm and take over in a few years. Vosi then went on to talk about her small grandchildren who were obviously the light of her life. Eventually she asked a question of Kayje, which was to cause the pleasant afternoon to end. “So, will you be wanting to stay the night?”
“Oh, no, it is very kind of you to offer but I would like to set off again soon. I think I shall travel to Ost Lein to see the tournaments.”
So Kayje rose from her chair and said goodbye to the old lady. Collecting her things she wished the farmer well and hoped that his fields would do well. He thanked her and she set off back to the main road she had left midmorning, riding Lohnspihr and leading Colea, the mule.