Kovàl, chapter one: Introduction

As the prairies and rivers of the lowlands gave way to the stony hills and high moors of the highlands, Andrew took a deep breath of the crisp Latewinter air. The Griffin he and his father were riding sped up the rhythm of her wings, rising higher with each powerful stroke. “There is nothing else like this in all Trellarya,” Andrew thought to himself, as the sun rising behind him bathed the countryside below in a rosy glow. The ground was mostly free of snow, but the morning frost gave a crystalline sparkle to the landscape as it fell away rapidly behind.

While contemplating the beauties of sunrise in the highlands, Andrew’s thoughts drifted to the reason for this journey: his coming-of-age! Every boy in Kovàl, exactly six months before his eighteenth birthday, was sent out on his own, away from the city of his birth. This was the coming-of-age, fasaerid in the ancient tongue. He was to survive by his own wits and his own work for those six months until his birthday, at which point he was accepted into society as a grown man. For poor boys, this was a chance to escape from the drudgery and prejudice of home life. For the sons of nobility, it provided a taste of real life away from wealth and luxury, and invaluable perspective for the day when the responsibilities of government fell on their shoulders. Sure, the fasaerid was risky, but it was a long-standing and deeply rooted Kovàl tradition, and on the whole, a beneficial one.

Andrew thought of all this and more as the flight wore on. His hand wandered to the fine golden chain around his neck, and the small jewel hanging next to his skin. He grimaced. Andrew was no ordinary boy: he was the son of the baron Daniel FinKaerin, and the only heir of the FinKaerin barony. If he were to die during the next six months, it would be disastrous for the whole kingdom. The dispute over the succession would be prolonged and bitter, even leading to civil war. Many thousands of lives could be lost in such a war, and with Trellarya growing ever more dangerous, disunity now bring destruction on the entire kingdom. As a result, Andrew wore a waithe-brom, or pair-bound stone. His father held its twin. These useful items, made of Silder from the kingdom of Välsurstägt, are enchanted through an unkown method, to form a mystical connection between the stones of the pair. When one is activated, the other responds, and the stones are drawn to one another. If Andrew was ever in mortal peril, he was to use this stone to call his father to his aid. Of course, this would be utterly humiliating: he would have failed his fasaerid! The young FinKaerin was sure the danger, both to himself and to the kingdom, was exaggerated, and inwardly resolved never to use the waithe-brom, no matter what happened.

Andrew snapped out of his reverie when the Griffin he was riding banked sharply to the left. They began to lose elevation rapidly as she circled lower and lower. “We’re landing!” Andrew’s heart pounded in his ears as the Griffin alighted gently by the side of a small country road. The sun was shining brightly now, melting the frost rapidly, but it seemed to have no power to warm the chilly air. Andrew hopped off the Griffin’s back and stretched his sore muscles. Several hours’ flight on Griffin-back was no joke! But, like all well-trained Kovàl, his first thought was for his mount. He went up to her head and stroked the beautiful golden feathers.

“Good girl, Beulah. A perfect landing, as usual.”

The Griffin cooed appreciatively. The boy had always been her favorite human, and she enjoyed his praise. Andrew unwrapped a squashy package of meat from one of the saddle-bags, and held it up to Beulah’s beak. She snapped up the food eagerly: she had a lot more flying ahead of her, and she would need the extra energy.

The baron Daniel FinKaerin watched his son with approval. “Look at how the Griffin loves him. That boy will be great someday.” Yet his smile quickly faded: he had come here to send Andrew off on his coming-of-age. The baron and his son shared a very deep bond, and he would miss the boy sorely. He turned toward Andrew.

“I believe you have everything you need,” he began, speaking very quickly. “An extra change of clothes, a warm cloak, food and water, and a small purse of money. You have bow and arrows, a sword, and the skill to use both. And of course, you have the waithe-brom. Remember what your mother has told you: stay away from the seedier inns and the gambling houses…”

As his father babbled on, Andrew smiled to himself. They had been over this at least a dozen times already. He knew he was just trying not to show how worried he was. On an impulse, Andrew ran over and embraced his father.

“Thanks for everything, Dad,” he said. Andrew was surprised to see the glint of tears in his father’s eyes.

“Take care of yourself, son.” The baron opened his mouth to say more, but thought better of it. Words were not necessary. He smiled, turned away, mounted the Griffin, and took off. Andrew waved goodbye, and watched until his father was only a speck in the distance. Then he shouldered his pack, took up his bow, and set out to face the world.