“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.”