The Dawn of Light

7

Young Elyon Quiven, age 331, slung his bag over his head to fall across his chest and strapped a him-sized sword to his chest. Meanwhile, his mother sobbed for him to stay home. Neia was very protective—some might say overbearing—when it came to her son, Elyon. Her husband, Kolvar, and eldest son, Goren, had died when they once fought with the Yesanith Army to slay Jörmungandr. She promised she would not let anything happen to Elyon, so much so that he had never been bitten by a bee, never had a paper cut, and never tripped or scraped his hands or knees. So imagine her realizing that her greatest fear wasn't him being bit by a dog or falling from a tree, but following the same path as his father and brother.

"Elyon, maztœ, don't go," Neia pleaded. "This isn't your fight. Stay here where your safe with me."

"I have to, mom. This is my fight. If I don't do it for Father and Goren, who will?"

"The Commander and his other warriors."

Elyon paused, realizing that she had a point but he still felt like going out there to fight the creature that tore his family apart was something he had to see being done. "You are right but I have to. I know you don't understand but trust that I'll come back."

She rested her hand on the side of his head and smoothed his hair down. The action did nothing but give her a chance to look at him, feel him, if today would be the last time they saw each other. Elyon raised his hand, brushed the tears away from his mother's face and planted a kiss on her forehead. The second he stepped out the door, she fell to her knees and sent multiple prayers, especially to Tajun, god of Sea. Little did Neia know was that as soon as he left the family Saidgo, the tears he held up for her sake came streaming down heavily. He felt his mother's pain and understood her fear. As much as he was willing to risk his life in the name of his father and brother, he only wished that he would make it back home safely so his mother would be alone.

Elyon placed his right foot first to dock the ship but Comander Jofir and Airdan Visatra stopped him.

"Go home, Quiven. Go back to your mother.," Jofir ordered in a gruff voice and with a hard stare.

"Please. You've been training me for 30 years now. It's my time."

"No, it's not. Do you want to break your mother's heart more than it already is?. Don't be selfish. Don't do that to her." Airdan tried to make Elyon see reason.

Stubbornly, he shook his head vehemently and tried to push past them to board the ship. "I love my mom and I intend to go back home to her because I trust you to protect me to ensure that happens. Now, let's get a move on. We have a giant serpent to kill."

The Yesanith Army had been sailing for what seemed like three days but was actually an hour in the Ribalt Sea because there were rumors the Jörmungandr had resurfaced and the harmless sea creatures were terrified. The cool ocean breeze blew their hair, causing goosebumps to arise on their arms while they ate oranges, drank ale, and sang songs written solely for those who have sailed on the sea. The flapping of the sails and clanging of the ropes dance softly in the wind. The bow tilted up and then down, switching alternatively to keep the ship afloat.

One of the males slapped Elyon's hand and snatched the bottle of ale from his hand. They all saw him as too young to be drinking. A kid.

"So Commander, tell us about the Nelaeryn you're staying with. What is she like? Has she tried murdering you in your sleep?" Taredd, a burly but handsome fellow, known to be more inebriated than sober, questioned.

"She's a pain, not that I see her much; I make it my mission to not have any interaction with her. And no, she has not tried to kill me in my sleep. It would be a foolish attempt on her part." Taredd laughed at this and shrugged his shoulders as though it were a valid question.