Breckin's Saga part one - Nadurra pt 1

Breckin had nearly reached the age of twelve.  He was a bit tall for his age, and had a faint spattering of freckles across his nose.  His hair was thick, straight, and a bit unruly, falling down over his forehead and curling around his ears.  He lived in the wooded village of Nadurra with his mother, in a small house built in the spreading branches of a large old tree.  All of the buildings in Nadurra were perched in the treetops.  “It is much safer this way,” Breckin had been told, one day when he had been curious enough to ask. 
         He was a solemn boy, not wasting time with thoughts on much else than the daily necessities of his simple life.  He wore plain leather clothing, as did all of the citizens of Nadurra.  Only two things about Breckin set him apart from the other village children.  One was a wide-brimmed leather hat he wore, which covered the tops of his pointed Elven ears, and the other was a woven silver chain that his father had given him.  It was all that either he or his mother had left of Emyr, since he had been killed in battle five years ago.
         Breckin wore the hat because, although everyone in Nadurra knew that he had Elven heritage, they did not need to be reminded of the fact every time they laid eyes on him.  He was not ashamed, but it was better to be careful.  The Elven people were seen as a threat to be eliminated.  They had once been a people with a powerful kingdom, overseeing the land from the Arsaidh Mountains all the way to the Loibronn River. But many of the other races had banded together to form an army, and the Elven Government had been overthrown.
         Breckin scuffed his leather-shod feet along the dirt path toward home. Glancing up at the pale sun, now low in the sky, He realized that he was getting home late.  He reached the steps that led to his own small house among the trees, and climbed them easily, as he had done so many times.
         “Hello, Mammin,” he greeted his mother, who stood on the wide porch, staring off into the woods. 
         “Yes, hello, Breckin,” she said.  “Come inside, let us get something to eat.”  She followed him in through the open doorway.
         Breckin stood by the cracked old washbasin and watched while his mother searched through their meager food supply to find something suitable for the last meal of the day.  He heard her sigh, although he knew she had not meant it for his ears.  He stepped up next to her.  “It’s all right, Mammin.  I’m not so hungry.”
         She smiled at him, and rested her hand briefly on top of his head.  “We’ll have bread and butter.  Pour us some berry juice, will you?”  Breckin obeyed as he watched her cut thick slices from the hard-crusted bread and slather it with creamy butter. 
         She placed two worn metal plates on the table and sat across from her son.  “Go ahead and eat,” she said.  Breckin sat still, with his hands in his lap.  “But you’re not eating yet.”
         She smiled a little, then picked up her bread and took a bite.  “There, now you
eat too.”  She looked ready to cry.  Breckin knew that they did not have much food, or much of anything, but neither did anyone else in Nadurra. His mother always tried to hide their poverty from him, but he was well aware of the state they were in.  He strongly wished that there were something he could do about it.  But he was only a boy.
         That night Breckin had a dream.  He could see his father, looking strong and proud.  He could see himself running into his father’s arms and feeling safe.  Then his father vanished.  He was gone, and it was dark and he was afraid.  He started calling out, Pappin!  Pappin!  But he was not only yelling in his dream.  “Pappin!”
         He woke himself up.  Only a dream - another dream.  He breathed hard in the darkness, trying to calm himself.
         His mother entered the room, holding a short, thick candle in a wooden bowl.  “Breckin?”  She asked.  “Are you awake?”
         “Yes, Mammin.”
         “Did you dream?”
         “Yes.  About Pappin.”
         She came and sat on the bed, resting the light on a shelf.  “I dream of him too.  Sometimes he speaks to me.  Did he speak in your dream tonight?”
         “No, he only held me, and I felt safe.  Then he disappeared.”
         “Breckin, I know that times have been hard for us.  We have had to gain strength from each other.”  She paused.  “But times may become harder still.”
         “Why, Mammin?”
         “There is still talk of war in the land.”
         “Against the Elves?”
         She nodded.  “But not only the Elves.  There is much unrest throughout all the land.  We must be brave.”
         “Like Pappin?”
         She smiled.  “Yes, like your Pappin was.”  She leaned over and kissed his forehead, her long brown hair brushing against his face.  “Can you sleep now?”
         Breckin nodded.  “I think so.”
         As the days passed, Breckin’s thoughts were plagued by his mother’s words - “times may become harder still”.  What did she mean?  Did she know something that she wasn’t telling him?  Breckin desperately hoped that the other races would leave the Elves alone.  Many of them, like his father, had been killed in the time of war, and the ones that were left behind had somehow managed to form small villages of refuge after their cities had been destroyed.  Still others went off alone and into hiding.  Who knew just how many Elves remained?  Their kingdom no longer existed.  Wasn’t that enough?  Did they have to be completely wiped out in order to satisfy those who wished to replace them as rulers?
         But surely there would be no such trouble so close to Nadurra!  There were no Elves here!  None but myself, Breckin thought.  Would they come after me? Do they know about me?  I’m only a boy, and half human at that!
         Breckin sat among his classmates thinking such thoughts to himself while he should have been listening to the instructor.  But then, he seldom paid much attention, and he had been reprimanded several times in the past.
         He was the last one to leave the treetop classroom that day, as Miss Hallain inquired after his daydreaming, and as to how things were with him and his mother.
         “Well enough,” Breckin replied.
         “If you are in need of anything, be sure to come to me.  I would be glad to be of help to both of you if I can.”
         “Thank you, we will.”
         “And please pay more attention in class from now on.”
         Breckin lowered his gaze. “I will, Miss Hallain.
         Breckin knew as well as anyone that she had little extra to give.
         As Breckin descended the smooth, worn steps to the forest floor, all of his classmates were still gathered near the base of the tree, watching the main dirt roadway that led through the middle of the village.  Breckin came up behind the small group unnoticed, as they were all whispering and pointing.  Soon he realized what had caught their attention - a group of large men on the backs of even larger horses was slowly riding into the wood.  They were Giogans, a race very similar in appearance to Humans, only much bigger.  Outsiders seldom visited Nadurra, so this was quite a momentous event.  Breckin watched in awe along with the others as the horsemen passed; they only acknowledged the village children with unfriendly stares.  One of the men seemed to briefly look right into Breckin’s wide green eyes, and the boy’s breath caught in his throat.
         As soon as the Giogans had passed on their way deeper into the village, Breckin snuck away from his classmates, who stood amazedly discussing this unexpected visitation.  He had to tell his mother what he had seen!  He headed for home as quickly as he could without drawing any attention to himself.  By the time he came inside, his mother was pacing anxiously.
         “Breckin, where have you been?”  She asked, grabbing him by the shoulders.
         “Just at the schoolhouse, Mammin,” he replied.  “What’s wrong?”
         She turned and snatched up a small shoulder bag that she had filled.  She knelt down in front of Breckin so that her eyes met his.  “Breckin, listen to me.  I need you to do something.  This is very important.”
         “What is it, Mammin?  Why are you so upset? Is it because of those men on horseback that came into the village today?”
         Her eyes grew wide in alarm.  “Did you see them?”  She asked.
         “Yes.”
         “Did they see you?”
         “I don’t know.  I don’t think so.  I don’t think they noticed me.”
         She held his shoulders more tightly.  “Breckin, pay close attention.  I don’t trust those men.  I fear you won’t be safe here as long as they are in the village.  There are so many things that I haven’t been able to tell you, about your father, and about you.  There is no time for that now.  Someday, I will explain it all.  But now you must leave here, you must go where you will be safe.”
         “But where, Mammin?”
         “Breckin, pay attention.  You must go to Caithream, to my brother there.  You will be safe with him.  Don’t tell anyone you meet on the way who you are or where you came from, just go straight there.  Do you understand me?”
         “Yes, but how do I get there?”
         “Go south.  Just go straight south, through the woods and then a valley.  Over the grassy hills in the valley at the other side of the woods.  It may take a few days.  Is that clear to you?”
         “Yes.  But why aren’t you coming?”
         “It would be too suspicious.  It will be easier for you to get away unnoticed, in case they are looking for you.”
         “But why would they be looking for me?”
         “Don’t ask that now.  Just go, please.  Trust me!”
         “But Mammin, I can’t go without you!  I can’t leave you here!”
         “Yes you can, Breckin, and you must!  Please go now, as fast as you can!”  She slipped the straps of the leather shoulder bag over his arms, held him tightly, and then released him, nearly pushing him through the doorway.  “There is food in there, and some other things you may need.  Go now, Breckin!  Go directly south to Caithream, to my brother Keir.  Go quickly and don’t stop!”
         Breckin ran for all he was worth.  He ran through the village, working his way along as many trees or bushes as possible so that he would not be seen.  He ran, leaving the village behind him.  He splashed through the narrow stream that bordered Nadurra, and entered the more wild forest, but kept running.  He imagined all sorts of horrible things chasing him.  What was happening?  Why did his mother send him off so urgently?  What would happen to her?  What would happen to him?
         He kept running as long and as fast as his legs would take him.  By the time he sank to his knees to catch his breath, he was deep in the woods.  Go south, he repeated to himself.  The last thing he needed to do was lose his way, but the sky was too hazy now, and the sun was no longer visible.  It would not be wise to continue during the night.  It would be too likely that he would fall over a cliff or twist his ankle tripping over a tree root.  He glanced around and tried to locate a safe place to sleep during the night, but everything looked the same - tall, twisted trees scratching the twilight sky, and hard, uneven ground. 
         He made sure that his feet were firmly planted underneath him, and took a few shaky steps forward.  His heart was beating fast.  To be in the center of the wild woods at such a time as this!  This was the time of night when horrible creatures roamed.  His mother had always warned him to stay close to home at twilight.  But not this time.  Now he had no choice.
         Oh, to be safe back in his own bed!  But was it safe?  Mammin surely would not have told me to leave if she didn’t fear for my safety.  He continued to walk around in search of a protected spot to lie down in, but the nighttime sounds of the forest were beginning to spook him.  Every shadow seemed to be a fierce monster or a Giogan on horseback trying to hunt him down.  He heard a twig snap behind him.  Or did he?  Was it only his imagination?  Torn between wanting to see what lurked in his shadow and terrified at the same time, he slowly started to turn around.
         As he did, an ugly creature with long arms and legs and sharp teeth jumped up, snarling, and clung to Breckin’s shoulder bag, almost knocking him off balance.  Breckin cried out in alarm.  “Get off me, get off!”  He shouted.  But the creature kept growling and tugging at him.  Well, if it wanted his bag, it could have the thing!  Breckin twisted his arms right out of the straps and ran as fast as he could, without daring to look back.  Please, let that thing be happy with my bag and not come after me!
         He ran until he couldn’t breathe, then fell hard at the base of a large tree.  He could not stop himself, and began to cry, still gasping for air.  He just knew he would get eaten this very night - torn to pieces by some horrible beast!
         He wiped his face with his soft leather sleeves, trying to stop his tears.  Anything nearby would be able to hear his breathless sobs, but he could not make them stop.
         It was very dark now, but Breckin thought he could see a soft light.  Looking harder, he did see light.  Was someone approaching with a torch?  No, it was a pale light, just hovering in the air above him.  It slowly spread out to fill more space, and soon touched the ground.  There was a bright flash, and after Breckin had blinked to regain his vision, he saw a beautiful woman standing before him.  The light now seemed to come from her, a soft, yellow light.  She had long, straight hair that was so pale that it was almost white, and she wore a long flowing gown of the same color.
         “Why do you weep?”  She asked.
         Breckin caught his breath.  “I’m alone and I’m afraid,” he replied.
         “Do not fear.  I will take you to where you will be safe from harm.”
         She had such a kind voice and honest face that at once Breckin knew he could follow her.  She glided through the dark wood as though she feared nothing, and this was very comforting.  He could now see, as he walked behind her, that she had long, silvery wings that were nearly hidden in the draping folds of her gown.  He wondered what sort of being she was.  He had never in his life seen anyone like her.
         “You wonder of me,” she said without turning her gaze from their path.  “I am a Wood Sprite.  My name is Siobhan.  What are you called?”
         “Ummm - Breckin,” he told her.
         She glanced briefly at him.  “I sense that you are not all a human boy, although you look it.”
         “You are right,” he said.  “My father was an Elf.”  He knew that his mother had told him not to reveal this to anyone, but he felt deep within himself that he could completely trust Siobhan. “He is no longer living?”
         “No.  He was killed in battle.”
         “You ache for him,” she said.  It was not a question.
         How did she know these things?
         “But come, Breckin, we are nearly there.”
         They carefully descended a sloping hillside, and entered a sheltered area below, surrounded by small dancing lights that reflected off the blossomed tree branches.  A tall man who was very similar in appearance to Siobhan stood in the center of the clearing, as though he were waiting for them.  Most likely he was.
         “Welcome to our haven,” he said to Breckin. “My name is Heremon.  We Wood Sprites are quite delighted to have you stay here this night.  Siobhan, will you open your home to this boy?”
         “Yes, Heremon, I gladly will.”
         “Then I bid you both a peaceful night.  We will meet again in the morn.”  After he had spoken these words, he faded into a pale light, and then vanished, just in the same manner that Siobhan had appeared.
         “Come, Breckin, I will take you to my home.”  She gently took him in her arms and, spreading her gleaming wings, lifted them both off the ground and up into the treetops.  Breckin was amazed at the sensation of floating through the air so effortlessly!  What a wonderful thing to be able to fly!
         Soon they landed softly on a wide branch outside Siobhan’s home, surrounded by delicately fragrant blossoms.  “Come in,” she invited him, with a slow, sweeping motion of her arm.  Breckin entered the treetop dwelling, which was quite similar to his own, but more open and airy.  And there were more of the dancing lights.
         “What are they?”  He asked.
         “They are frionas.  Fireflies.”
         “Ohh,” he breathed.  They were so beautiful.
         Siobhan was very good to Breckin, treating him to some delicious fruit and a warm, sweet-tasting drink.  She asked him why he traveled alone in the dark, and he told her all he knew - that he must get to his uncle in Caithream as soon as possible.
         She nestled him into a bed that was more unbelievably soft than Breckin could ever have imagined, and played a soothing melody on her reed pipe.  The tune was so restful that Breckin felt his eyes growing heavy, but he did not want to go to sleep.  He wanted to stay awake and in Siobhan’s company forever.
         Breckin slowly became aware of a soft light through his closed eyelids.  He slowly opened them, and saw that it was daylight.  He still lay covered in Siobhan’s feathery bed, and she remained seated where she had been the night before, to play her pipe.  Had she sat there all night?  Hadn’t she slept?
         She smiled at him.  “Are you awake?”  She asked.
         Breckin blinked.  “I think so,” he replied.
         “Come, arise, it is time to meet with the others in the Glen.”
         “The other Wood Sprites?”  asked Breckin.
         “Yes.  The elders wish to speak with you.”  Siobhan again gathered him in her robed arms and they descended slowly through the branches and down to the soft ground below.  Now that it was light, Breckin could see that this place was very peaceful and mysterious even by day, without the dancing fireflies.  They stood in a large clearing, surrounded by an almost perfect oval of tall, leafy trees, all of them covered in tiny, pale pink blossoms.  There were many large ferns and clover-like vines weaving their way through the tree trunks and cascading down along the borders of the clearing. 
         “Come, this way,” said Siobhan, and they followed a well-traveled path toward the left side of the Glen.  There, some smaller, silvery trees leaned in to form a shady canopy over a large, ornately carved wooden table.  Many Wood Sprites, dressed in soft white robes, were seated around the table in chairs that were also quite decorated.  Small Sprite children sat and played quietly near some of the farther trees bordering the enclosure, and they stopped and stared as Breckin and Siobhan entered. 
         Heremon sat at the head of the table, and he rose to greet them.  “Welcome, our young visitor.  Did you rest well?”
         “Yes, thank you.”
         “Please, join us,” he said, gesturing toward two empty seats on the far side of the table.  Breckin was glad that he was able to stay near Siobhan, for although he did not fear the Wood Sprites, he felt very uncomfortable in such a formal setting. 
         Breckin was introduced to the others who were in their company, men and women alike.  Flannan, Bennigan, Conolan, Pederan, Fineen and Liadan all nodded their greetings as Heremon spoke their names.  Breckin politely nodded in return.
         “Tell us, young visitor, who you are and how you have come into our company after we have so long been isolated from the outside world.”
         He swallowed nervously.  “My name is Breckin,” he began.  He glanced to one side and could see the Sprite children still watching him with great interest.  “I live in Nadurra.  Do you know where that village is?”
         Heremon nodded.  “We are familiar with the name.”
         “I live there.  I have never been anywhere else but there for all my life.  But . . . my mother told me yesterday that it was not safe, and that I should go to Caithream to find my uncle.  She said that I would be safe there.  I was on my way there last night when I got attacked by a horrible creature.  I ran from it, and Siobhan found me.  She brought me here where I would be safe.”
         Heremon nodded again.  “We sensed that you were in the wood so near to us, and Siobhan was sent to find you.”
         “Why was it not safe for you to remain home?” Asked Liadan.
         “Some Giogans on horseback came into the village.  My mother did not trust them.  She told me to go to Caithream, and stay there until they have gone.”
         “Tell us, what race are you?”  Conolan asked, leaning forward.  How long had it been since they had known of what was going on in the world around them?  Did they know of the war against the Elves?  Did they know that Breckin had reason to fear for his life? 
         “I’m half Human,” he said.  “And . . . Half Elf.”
         There was silence, but he could tell that all of the Wood Sprite elders were deep in thought.
         “We know of the war against the Elves that took place five years ago,” Siobhan told him.  “We know of their troubles.”
         “My mother told me that it is not over, that many other races hate and fear the Elves, and that they must still fear for their lives.  Will I be safe in Caithream?”
         “We do not know the ways of those in Caithream,” Pederan admitted.  “Our advice in this matter must be to follow the instructions that your mother has given you.”
         Breckin nodded.  As long as no one else knew that he had Elf in him, he would be as safe as anyone could be, traveling alone.
         Heremon stood.  “I feel that we have troubled the boy enough for the day.  Will you join us for the morning meal?”
         “Yes, thank you.”  He was relieved that they asked no more questions.  He was afraid that he had revealed too much already.
         They all stood and began to file out through the silver trees.  One of the young girl Sprites lightly skipped over to where Breckin stood by Siobhan’s side.  “Hello, Breckin.  My name is Sheehan,” she said, smiling.  “May I show you around the Glen before we gather to eat?”
         Breckin looked up at Siobhan for permission.  “You may go with her,” she replied.  Sheehan grabbed Breckin by the hand and led him through the trees.  She was a bit shorter than Breckin, and very dainty.  She had long, wavy hair and silver wings that were not yet as long and flowing as those of the adult Sprites.
         Sheehan took Breckin to a soft mossy spot partially hidden by low, flowering bushes.  There they sat, and Sheehan folded her hands in her lap and smiled.  “Are you really an Elf?”  She asked. 
         “Half Elf,” he replied.  “My mother is Human.”
         “Do you have pointed ears?”
         “Yes.”
         “May I see them?”  She whispered.
         Well, why not?  Breckin removed his hat, and Sheehan reached up to brush his hair out of the way so that she could get a better look.  “I have never seen an Elf before,” she explained.  She placed her hands back in her lap.  “I like your ears.”
         Breckin had never heard anyone say that to him.  “I like your wings,” he said.  “I wish that I could fly too.”
         She giggled.  “I like to fly. Sometimes I fly around so much that the elders tell me I’m being silly.  I don’t think that I could ever fly around too much, though.  What do you do for fun back at your home?”
         “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean?  Isn’t there something that you really like to do?”
         Breckin had to think about it.  When was he truly happy?  “I like to be with my family,” he said.  “When my father was alive, I was happier.  We were all happier.  Times have been very hard since my father was killed.  There isn’t much time to have fun.”
         This truly disappointed Sheehan, and her face showed it.  “I am sorry,” she said. Then her face brightened.  “Let me show you something!”  She hopped up, took Breckin’s hand and led him to a narrow, rocky stream that ran through one side of the Glen.  Small purple wildflowers grew everywhere along the banks, and Sheehan picked several of them and wove them together to form a crown, which she placed on top of her head.  “I love these flowers.  I always come down here to put them in my hair.”  She leaned over the edge of the stream and admired her reflection. Breckin immensely enjoyed Sheehan’s company.  Her liveliness was beginning to erase all of the feelings of fear and uncertainty that had so long been weighing him down. 
         A low, soft musical tone caught Sheehan’s attention.  “Come on, let’s go,” she said.
         “What was that?”  Breckin asked. 
         “The call to the morning meal,” she replied.
         Breckin expected that they would return to the large table under the canopy, but instead all of the Wood Sprites gathered in the center of the Glen.  There were so many of them!  Where had they all been hiding? Breckin wondered.  They all seemed to expect his presence there, but only a small number of them greeted him.
           Each one had brought food to share.  There were many different types of fruit, and drinks, and curious-looking bread like substances that melted in Breckin’s mouth.  It was the most delicious meal that he believed he had ever eaten, and he had never felt so satisfied.  Although Sheehan remained his mealtime companion, none of the other Sprite children ventured near him.  Were they afraid of him?
         After the meal was finished and a lively tune had been played, the Wood Sprites went about their activities.  Heremon and Siobhan joined Breckin and Sheehan, and they slowly made their way toward the Glen’s boundary. The little Sprite was eating a bright red piece of fruit and licking the sweet juice off of her tiny fingers.
         “We regret that we must prepare you to continue on your journey,” Heremon told Breckin.  “We know that you would be safe if you remained here for a short time, but we Wood Sprites also have reason to fear those from the outside.  And we feel that we must respect your mother’s wishes that you go to Caithream.  Do you understand?”
         “Yes, I do,” Breckin reluctantly admitted.  He would be so happy to stay with the Sprites forever, since he had felt so safe and been treated so well.  But suppose his mother came to Caithream looking for him, and he wasn’t there.  No, he must go on. 
         Siobhan handed him a small leather bag.  “Here you are, young Breckin.  Hang this from your belt.  There is some fruit and bread that should last you the rest of the day.  I wish we could do more to help.”

          To be continued