Light Of Loreandril by V K Majzlik Page A

and clothes for all seasons was growing. Nechan looked at it in disbelief thinking how is this going to fit on our two horses? We will need to take an entire herd! It would have been so much easier if they had known how long they were going to be travelling for.
    “Stop dreaming, son. I need you to get that honey if I am going to make you more cakes!” Rheordan, stood in the doorway of the farmhouse, gently whisking the contents of a mixing bowl under her arm, wearing a white apron that showed the signs of hours of baking and cooking.
    Nechan blushed, “I’m going. Sorry, I…..”
    “It’s fine, Nechan,” she said in her smoothing manner. “And, if you want to stop by Barnon’s you can, but not for too long, tonight could be our last family meal together, so I want everyone here on time!” Continuing to mix her bowl, she turned back to the kitchen.
     
    Nechan hurried into Feolin, walking and running as speedily as he could. His mother was right, Nechan had been anxious all week to see Barnon. He might help make sense of everything, perhaps even offer him some guidance as to where they should go.
    Barnon’s house was on the far side of the village. It was set back from the main thoroughfare and constructed from the usual wattle and timber, with a flimsy roof of wooden tiles, many of which were cracked or missing. The house had not been looked after for some time, and even the chimney was twisted, looking as if the next gales would blow it down. Nechan waded through the jungle of undergrowth and rapped on the front door.
    “Come in! It’s open!” a familiar voice called from within.
    Nechan braced his shoulder and heaved the warped, rickety door open, its hinges creaking with the strain. He was greeted by an overwhelming smell of tabacco smoke that hung heavily in the air, shrouding everything in a thick fog.
    “Nechan, my laddie! Come sit. I was expecting you several days ago. Where have you been? Neglecting your old friend?” Barnon sat in a high-backed chair,  legs outstretched, and his unshod feet resting in the hearth, toes wiggling in the fire light.
    “No, not at all, Barnon. I, well my whole family have been busy with all sorts this week.” Nechan suddenly felt awkward, unsure whether he should tell Barnon they were leaving. He moved a stool into the firelight and sat himself down in front of the old man.
    “You’re leaving before they come for you, aren’t you?” Barnon had already guessed from the way Nechan was acting. He knew him very well. A wave of relief washed over the boy, realising his friend was not disappointed in him.
    “Well, you’re here now, that’s all that matters. I’m glad you came to see me before you leave. Any ideas where you might go?”
    Nechan shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head. “I thought you might have a few suggestions. You’re the most travelled person I know!”
    Barnon laughed. “That’s very true, although I haven’t left this village for many years now! The world has changed a great deal since I first came here and settled down.”
    “That’s the thing. My parents both say this, but Cradon and I have known nothing different. The world is as it always has been!”
    “Surely even you have noticed the presence of the Empire growing stronger. You can’t turn a corner in our small village without nearly running into one of their hideous, angular statues!” Barnon took a puff from his pipe, and blew the smoke into a billowing cloud. “The world has changed very much, perhaps even more than you realise. Why, the stories my father used to tell me, they painted a very different Empire.”
    Nechan sat on the edge of his stool eagerly. He could tell Barnon was about to embark on a long tale of Imperial history, and he was not about to stop him. It would help him find an escape from reality for a short while.
    “You see, Nechan, my father strongly believed that Elves still existed.”
    Nechan sat up, his interest growing instantly.  
    “And, the more