King's Shadow - A Boy Who Was Banished

R

iar roused from the sudden jerk of a pothole, wincing as his head hit hard the cart’s front side.
            “Are those pots all right, lad?” the cart driver asked, leaning back worriedly. “Damn those soldiers! They have ruined the whole way!”
            Riar threw a quick glance to his companions – the earthen pots clattered like crickets back in response.  A shudder like that would have crumbled many of it, but the pots were seemed to be as stubborn as the cart driver. “Yes, your precious pots are all right.”  
        “Look again. I don’t want to deliver any shards of sand. Believe me, lad, Celberth’s merchants will not pay a coin if they find any of it misshapen.”

            Riar sneered and muttered something not polite under his breath. He knitted his brows densely almost like a frown, but found nothing broken, or if it was, then it was well shrouded in the darkness of the night. “All are well.”
            “Hey, don’t sound so awful.” The driver whipped his reins and the black mare that carried them whined. “I am a potter, you know. Those pots help my family to survive.”
             For a brief time only the creaking of axle challenged the night’s silence except the driver’s mutterings. Riar leaned ahead to listen and could catch some snatches of the folk songs. They sounded strange to him. Shelling himself with his cloak, Riar managed to stretch his legs, taking utmost care not to disturb any of the pots.  He kept his eyes on the receding path. Shadowy Pearl Mountains blocked shinning of stars on the horizon. He had learned from a map in his house that the Pearl Mountains make an arc over the north-east side of Meral Isle. If that map was true, then over his left side was supposed to be Fanghorn Forest – a great expanse of trees that covered almost the south of Meral Isle. From the elders of his village, he had heard many tales of this forest and each one was more horrific than the last. Riar did not risk lifting his head above the side and taking a sight of the forest, fearing one of the fabled creatures would crawl out from the darkness and attack him.   
            “Hey, lad, are you awake?”
            Riar grunted in response. Can’t this man remain silent?
            “What were you doing at this time over Bellatora’s outskirts? Have you ran away from your home or eh...” The driver coughed as if he didn’t want to mention further.
            “Or?”
            “Or are you a thief?”
            Riar mused for a while what to say. He could not simply trust anyone, but this man had picked him and offered a lift till the crossroads. Could he tell him? “I can assure you I am not a thief. And I have not run away from my home, too. Actually it’s a bit complicated. How should I put it? I am banished from my village.”
            The driver abruptly halted the cart. “Banished! What in the name of The Lady have you done? Did you kill someone?”
            “No.” Riar looked up and found the driver’s face looming over him, his curious eyes boring right through him. “What makes you think I had killed someone? I am still sixteen!”
            “Laws.” The driver went back to his seat, whistling in relief. With one sharp beat of his rein the cart lurched and continued on its way. “Laws say only children, not adults, are banished from their home forever if they are found guilty in killing someone. But you do not look like one. Are you?”
            “No.” Riar said sharply. “What they do to adults if they are proved criminal?”
            “They cut their head in front of the whole village.” The cart-driver said gravely.  “In front of their family. I had witnessed this brutal proceeding once, and that memory still haunts me in nightmares.” The driver remained silent for a while, lost in thoughts. “It’s a grim talk for nights strange like this. I don’t want to speak more about it.”
            Riar rubbed his throat, swallowing a lump formed because of fear. Finally his voice found its way. “Thanks for believing me.”
            The cart-driver laughed. “Don’t worry, lad. The moment my eyes fell upon you I understood you are kind-hearted. Why you are banished if I may ask?”
            Riar again found himself in dilemma either to speak truth or to remain silent. He preferred the second option.
            Hearing nothing from his passenger the driver said, “Its okay, lad, everyone has their own secrets. You have your own and I do have mine. Now, rest and don’t ask questions.”
             Guilty, Riar felt in hiding the truth from this kind man, but what could he do? He just could not tell anyone and broke his promise. A promise that compelled him to leave his home forever. Clutching his cloak tightly he stared at the myriad stars. The creaking of wheels drifted at a snail's pace to faint sound, and the twinkling of stars blurred, finally blended to blackness.
            “Psss...”
            Riar ignored the hiss.
            “Easy, lad!” The potter almost yelled when Riar tried to twist. “You are about to crack some of it. Careful!”
            Riar jolted upright, rubbing his eyes. He had no idea when sleep had overwhelmed his wakefulness. He drew back his left leg slowly and carefully which almost touched the side pots. “Why did we stop?”
            “Because we are at cross-roads.” The potter grinned. “And come on, there is something I need you to see. Be fast, it will remain only for moments.”
            “What is that?” Riar asked, struggling to control a yawn. Who have succeeded in suppressing a yawn? It came and Riar sucked a mouthful of air along with few tiny flies. He spat immediately aside, scrubbing his tongue with his shirt-sleeve. It tasted awful.
            “That must have tasted disgusting. Now, be on your legs and follow me. You cannot miss this!” With that the potter darted away and started scrambling the nearest hill.
            Taking utmost care not to disturb the arrangement of pots, Riar slid down the cart. Pots jangled in harmony as the cart jerked.  With a sigh, he took few steps forward. The potter was correct; they had reached the cross-roads. The dirt-packed road on which they had travelled, met an intersection few paces ahead. Before he could inspect the other roads the potter called him uphill. Though the hill was not so high, but scrambling up to its vantage point almost took the wind out of him. Somehow, he reached where the potter stood. Night-blackness shrouded everything surrounding them except the gigantic, ghostly silhouettes of the Pearl Mountains and the outlines of the Fanghorn Forest. “Where do these roads lead to?” Riar asked, pointing to the intersection.
            It took a while for the potter to drift his eyes from the great gathering cloud that almost obstructed moonlight. “Over the left of the cart, you see, all along the Fanghorn, it leads to Celberth, a port where I need to make deliveries before afternoon.” He then gestured to the road which curved right from his cart and stretched straight till it vanished into the shadows of the Pearl Mountains. “That carries you to Kolarsh, a town and beyond it are the new mines. And the remaining and the straight stone-paved road...” His words trailed off.
            Riar looked up to see what made the potter stopped, and found him staring at the black cloud. “Time has come,” he heard the potter muttering. “Watch, lad.”
            The black bulk of wisps with silver linings drifted, unveiling the full moon. Bars of silver light slanted over the land many yards ahead of them. Something gleamed near the foot of the last mountain, glowing stark white as if it was a piece of the moon itself. Riar gasped in awe. He knew what it was since he had heard the tales from the merchants in Bellatora about this place. Curiosity with excitement made his eyes bulge. He swung his head to the potter for confirmation.
            The potter smiled at him. “Yes, lad. It is Isolgoth, the heart of Meral Isle. It is said the walls and palaces of this magnificent city are made from the pristine white stones of the Pearl Mountains itself. I heard one of the bards telling in Celberth that the construction of this city almost engulfed two whole mountains!”
             “Really?”
            “I don’t think so. It’s the way those bards speak, always exaggerating things in a grand manner.”
              Riar lost the track of time in admiring the capital. When a question about its history bloomed in his mind, he swung his head to ask and found himself alone. The potter had already left him and was adjusting on the driver-seat. Riar dashed down to the cart, taking long strides.
            “Now I need to leave, lad. I have a delivery to make,” He said with a smile. “Well, I too don’t like to leave you in this darkness. You can come with me to Celberth if you wish.”
            “No, thanks,” Riar said still gasping for air. “You had already helped me a lot. Thanks again.”
            The potter continued to smile and then it turned to scowl. “Do you have money?”
            Riar dug his hands in the pockets of his pant, looking for coins. When nothing touched his fingers, he shook his head in embarrassment.
            “Ah, lad, take this.” The potter unknotted a pouch from the satchel and offered few bronze coins. “Don’t be shy. You’ll need them when yo,u will be in the city.”
            Reluctantly, Riar accepted the coins and pocketed them, hoping every person of Isolgoth would be as kind as this potter. “Don’t you want to know my name?”
            “And do you know mine?” The potter interjected Riar’s question rather than to answer, still smiling. “I met you on the road and now we depart on the road. For me, people’s names are not worthy. They fades with time. What I remember about them is the moments I passed with them. Memories, good memories. And believe me, my little angle Dalina and my little knight Sadan will be delighted to hear about you. Now I must leave. Farewell, lad and take care.” With a whip of his rein, the potter veered his cart left on the road towards Celberth.
            Riar stood where he was, waving his hand. Then something flashed in his mind. “What will you tell your children?” He shouted. “You can’t just pick any random name for your story. Not especially when I am involved.”
            “I’ll tell them I met a boy,” the potter answered in shouts, driving his cart. “A boy who was banished.”