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SYNOPSIS: The ambitious monk Manheim and the callow novice Julian are unlikely traveling companions. Both would consider the circumstances surrounding their journey mere bad luck—yet, one way or another, they have been charged with a single, important mission: Find the Blackpage!
Twenty years after Manheim’s rival monk, Byron—now called The Blackpage—was exiled from the Order of Authors, this adventuring party will face dangers in the mysterious wilds of Daranna. Yet, all agree that nothing they could encounter is more dangerous than the man they hope to find…
INDEX | Chapter 1 | <Previous (Chapter 4) | Next (Chapter 6)>
Yan Dawil
Shhhhhhhing. Shhhhhhhhhhing. Shhhhhhhhhhing.
Julian dreamt about a blade being sharpened. He reached for his side-table, and found it wasn’t there—he was in a bedroll in the forest. The sound wasn’t in his dream—he blinked, adjusting to the low blue pre-dawn light.
Shhhhhhhing. Shhhhhhhhhing. Shhhhhhhing.
Julian sat up in bed, and his heart caught in his throat. Sitting on a stump by the ashes of their fire was a tall, dangerous looking not-quite-a-man. He had red hair pulled back into a knot, a wild looking copper beard. He was wearing leather boots, pants that looked to be made out of some combination of hide and fur, and a simple woven tunic. His brows were furrowed in deep concentration on his short, wide sword, which shimmered in the low light. Some marks on the blade seemed to be catching and scattering the light at odd angles.
He had the point of the blade on the ground, and was running his whetstone along it’s edge, sharpening it. Henri, Manheim, and Varus each followed Julian into wakefulness at the strange sound.
When everyone was awake, and staring at the apparition—Julian assumed it was Yan Dawil in the flesh—they watched him sharpen his blade for long minutes. No one dared speak.
“You,” he said, his voice deep and tremulous yet strangely musical, “are Authors.” He said this confidently, not as a question. He spoke slowly, like he was thinking over each word carefully.
Varus and Manheim exchanged nervous glances.
“I know this,” Shhhhhhhhhhhing, shhhhhhhhhhhhhing, “because of your habit.”
Manheim made as if to stand, yet before he could say anything, Yan Dawil was towering over him, pointing the blade at him. “Stay seated,” he boomed. Manehim stumbled back into his own bedroll, and then Yan Dawil resumed his seat on the stump. Shhhhhhhhhhing, Shhhhhhhhhhhing, he continued the careful work of sharpening his blade. Julian began to feel impatient as Yan Dawil held them captive to his sharpening, but was simultaneously too afraid to interject.
“You young ones,” he muttered, “Always in a hurry. I suppose…I would be too. I recognized…your habit…from the last Author who trespassed into my woods.”
A pregnant silence followed.
“Just the other year…he passed this way.”
Manheim tried again, “Where did he go? Which way? Did he tell you—”
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhing. Dawil answered by taking an extra long pass over his blade with the whetstone, then wrapped the stone in a cloth, and tucked it in a satchel on his side. “Quiet,” was all he said in answer. “You have trespassed in my woods. It is your habit that stayed my sword. He helped me, before he passed. Perhaps you can help me too.”
Manheim squirmed, but this time it was Varus who quietly held up a hand to let Dawil finish speaking and ask a question before any of them tried speaking again.
“He told me that one day he may be followed. Some have tried to find him in my woods—they were not Authors, like you are. They are dead. Yet you are Authors, one of his order. Why have you come into my woods?”
Julian took the opportunity to steal a glance at Henri, who was entranced in terror. Manheim made as if to speak again, and Varus gestured at him again to stand down. The old Inquisitor spoke now, with exaggerated decorum: “Your skills serve you well, we are indeed Authors and we are indeed on the trail of our brother, who passed this way some years ago, by our reckoning. Unlike the others who have come before us, and with whom you have no doubt dealt with according to your laws, we are on a mission of mercy. His name was Byron, we now call him by the name ‘Blackpage’. We came seeking you, as one knowledgeable of the comings and goings through your woods. Would you help us find our brother, and pass by quickly so as to neither disturb you nor the smallest twig of your range?”
Dawil smirked at Varus’ speech. “You who are oldest of the young ones, you have spoken well. I do know this Byron, called by some ‘Blackpage’. I can do better than tell you which direction he went, I can deliver you to him using the book-magic he gave to me.”
Varus smiled, Manheim clapped his hands. Julian felt almost disappointed that the adventure would be cut short.
Dawil extended his arm and pointed at Manheim, “You, impatient one. Why do you celebrate?”
The air charged with sudden electricity, as now even Varus dare not speak for Manheim when addressed directly by the elf.
Manheim stammered— “I, uh, I celebrate that we may quickly accomplish our mission of mercy.”
“The one you call Blackpage was permitted to pass because he engaged in a trade. In exchange for these books, I let him live. We both left happy. Do you offer a trade?”
Manheim was caught off guard. “Uh, Your—Yan, I—”
“If you would name your desire—if it is in our power to give, we will grant it,” Varus interjected. “We did not tread lightly into your woods, and do not lightly ask for your help now.”
Yan Dawil nodded thoughtfully. “Young ones, the one you call Blackpage told me to administer a test if anyone from your order comes seeking him in goodwill. I have listened to you, and I have watched you, and this does seem to be the case. If you pass the test, you are worthy to follow after him. Then we may discuss a trade.”
Varus asked, carefully, “What is the nature of this test?”
Yan Dawil fished through his satchel, and pulled out a couple books, carefully examining their covers before finding one, and tossing it on the ground at Varus’ feet. “It is this test. Come back, and we will talk. If you don’t come back, you will be dead.”
Julian’s hair stood on end, and he caught eyes again with Henri.
Yan Dawil stood, and returned the sword to the sheath on his hip. “Leave your things, take the test. I will wait for you.”
To be continued…
Thank you very much for reading! This is Find The Blackpage, a fantasy adventure serial set in the world of Daranna. This will be a serial publishing every week, for a tentative total of twelve episodes. Please subscribe to be sure you don’t miss an installment sent directly to your inbox!
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God bless!
AJPM
Well done! You made Yan Dawil come to life.
I can't tell you how satisfying it was to read Yan Dawil shut Manheim down. Sounds like we've got a side quest in our hands!