“Here I go again,” he
groaned in the darkness of his room.
Wet with perspiration, Rogan
felt as if eyes were upon him. He sat up in fear, but the room held no
trace of the specter. He froze for a moment, and then nearly jumped out of his
skin at the sound of a tap upon his window.
“Who is it at this hour?”
his asked in a low voice.
The window was opened only
a crack, but an answer came through. “It is Leonin. We need to talk…”
Rogan crept through his
sleeping house, careful not to disturb his parents and sisters asleep in their
own bedrooms. He had no idea the time. Once outside, a chill wind roused his
senses. There upon the road stood Leonin dressed in Farrian garb, but as one
set to travel.
“Leonin, what is it? You
scared the life out of me,” asked Rogan, still startled.
“It is true. Your dreams have
not left you. The road has not let you go,” he replied.
“It is my burden. The only
one foolish enough to touch a holy jewel…”
“You are not the only
fool.”
Rogan did not understand.
He hurried up and changed indoors, and followed Leonin across the fields along
the forest edge. They settled within a grove of trees, like an island on the
plain, still well before sunup. Leonin was calm, but not at peace. Rogan gazed
at him with pity.
“Leonin, I am so sorry for
the events at the scrutiny. They must know they have spoken in error,” he said.
“There is no changing what
has taken place. We are marked, you and I. What we bear cannot be altered,”
replied Leonin. But Rogan did not comprehend.
“My mark, I understand,
but what of yours? Do you mean that of being a Farrian – a Lanfersian?”
“To the Lanfersi, I am no
longer its son,” he muttered, “but the mark I bear is one like yours.”
He gazed at Rogan,
reaching into a pocket to pull out an item wrapped in cloth. “Only you can I
trust with this. Not even Andro would understand...”
Rogan held his silence as
Leonin unrolled the object within the cloth. In the dim light of dawn he saw a
glimmering object; first seemingly black, then ruby red as Leonin held it up to
the sky. The size and length of a small dagger, it seemed a curious object.
“What is it?” asked Rogan.
“The Rindurron, at least
what remains of the blessed jewel. And I am its keeper.”
“But how?”
