Light Of Loreandril by V K Majzlik

frantically, as if she were taking her frustration out on it.
    “But where will we go?” gasped Nechan.
     “And for how long?” Cradon finished his brother’s train of thought.
    “Boys, I know you are scared, but believe me, it this is far better than being drafted,” Jesfor replied, understanding his sons’ fear.
    “We all hear the stories of the riots. Young recruits are always getting killed!” explained their mother without pausing from her business, not even turning to look at the boys. She was trying to keep herself busy, preparing the last of the meat to be salted for winter.
    The few days since the village celebration had flown by. Both the boys had anticipated the arrival of their summons, but as yet, thankfully, these had not been delivered.
    Their mother had spent every waking minute preparing salted meats, whey biscuits and dried fruits. Every day, she seemed to think of yet another reason to send one of her sons to the village for more supplies. At first, they naturally assumed she was making last minute preparations for the cold winter months, but now the real reason had been made clear. It also explained why their father had suddenly spent days tending to the tack, and even the leather waterskins.
    “I have friends in the neighbouring village who are watching the road. They have promised to send word as soon as they see any messengers or troops.”
    Cradon pushed his chair back quickly and stood standing up. He placed his hands on the kitchen table, shaking his head. “But father, you always taught us to conduct our lives with honour, to respect and carry out our duty to the Empire. You did!”  
    “Cradon, times are not as they used to be. A storm is coming and when it hits, those that stand in the way will be wiped out.”
    “What on earth are you talking about? You sound like Nechan and his childish, ignorant stories of olden times!” Cradon laughed, slumping in his chair once more, running his hands edgily though his straggly, red hair.
    “You are leaving and that’s final!” It was Jesfor’s turn to stand up, his blood starting to boil at his son’s outburst, but he did not want to lose his temper. Instead, he went out to the barn to continue preparing the bridles and saddles.
     
    The boys sat in silence, Cradon with his arms folded, as their mother continued cooking and cleaning around them. Finally, Nechan broke the silence. “So, what do you really think, mother?”
    She paused, twisting a rag in her hand, as she thought of the best thing to say. Her blue eyes were red and puffy from hours of crying. “All I know is that I do not want my sons dying for something that we…our family, does not believe in.”
    “But what do you expect us to do? We cannot run from our duty forever!” exclaimed Cradon, now drumming his fingers on the table in front of him.
    Rheordan sat down opposite her sons. “Hopefully, it will not be forever. I think you will know when it is safe to come home.” The tears once again formed in the corner of her eyes as she thought of her boys leaving home. Cradon could not bear to see his mother upset, so stood up and gave her a much-needed hug. Nechan reached across the table, holding her hands tightly. She accepted both gestures gratefully.
    “Please, do it for me! Please go!” she choked, as she fought back the flood of tears she could feel building up. Cradon looked at Nechan, who gave a small nod. Reluctantly Cradon gave in and smiled at his mother, wiping a trickling tear from her cheek.
     
    Another day passed, and still there was no word from the other village. Danula, their younger sister, had barely left the twins’ side that week. She hung round their necks, constantly demanding piggybacks and tickle fights. Although she did not fully understand the magnitude of what was happening, her parents had told her that Cradon and Nechan were leaving for a long trip. She knew that she would miss them immensely.
    The mound of packs containing provisions