The Tellanon

8. The start of the adventure

The grey predawn light crept over the world, and Emyra opened her eyes. She hadn't even been sleeping for two minutes, it seemed, when the light woke her. She always woke at first light, even at home.

Awakening was much more comfortable at home, she had found. After a whole night of riding, she had been exhausted and slithered of her horse, some two hours before dawn. She had intended to sleep for four hours or more, but now that she had woken up, going back to sleep wasn't an option anymore. She would never be able to fall asleep again. Her blanket and face were covered in dew, and though it was the end of June, it was still cold at night.  She shivered violently and huddled against Alea's warm body, pulling out her diary. She had tried writing in the saddle, and found it impossible, so she did it there, as the sun slowly climbed over the horizon.

The landscape glittered with the sunlight in the dew, rolling grasslands and low hills, as far as the eye could see. The grass was bright green and very pretty, and Emyra adored it. Prettiness didn't make it any more comfortable to sleep in, though. Emyra was used to a soft bed and warm blanket, with a roof above her head. Adventures were uncomfortable, and not her favourite thing in the world. She enjoyed the scenery, though, and enjoyed the warmth. When she crossed the mountains that formed the border between Thén and Valharis, she would miss it, the warmth of summer. Up there, it was cold and bitter, and winter never ended. Down here, summer would last for another month or so before turning into autumn, and winter would be fierce but short. Thén had a likable climate, even though the farmers didn't welcome winter's heavy snows.  Emyra used to have snowball fights, she loved them. Snow was beautiful and fun, and even made up for the cold, she thought. She yawned. Alea nuzzled against her chest, and she just sat like that for a while, watching the sun climb, thinking of her family. They would wake up soon, never looking twice at Emyra's bed. Only an hour after would they begin to wonder where she was. They'd first cast odd looks at the stairs, waiting for her to come down. When she didn't,  they would look upstairs and find her note. Her mother would sit down heavily, and Michelle would re-read it, shrug, and go to comfort her mother. Lynn would stare out of the window, hoping to find her in the crowds in the streets and Thomys would ask where she was, get no answer, and go on playing. After a while, they would realize she didn't say how long she would be away, and might come back that very day. They would cling to that hope for the coming day, and maybe as long as the whole week. After that, they'd give up. Her mother would cry some more, and Michelle wouldn't care. Lynn would keep hoping for years, and Thomys would just play on. He was very immature for his age, Emyra realised. She pushed her family from her mind and examined her way. She would travel north-east, in the direction of Gerrat, the capital of Valharis. She had planned it all, but was not yet convinced she was doing the right thing. She avoided the marshes , and the hills as much as she could, but she had absolutely no idea what was wisdom.

She shrugged, and stood up. Hungry though she was, she was anxious not to eat. Her food wouldn't last, and she wouldn't last without it, so Emyra mounted her horse with an empty stomach and urged the horse into a canter. Emyra let her thoughts wander, never paying much attention to what happened outside her own mind. It was a mistake. No murderer, rapist or bandit appeared, not so close to Merrón. Emyra had counted on that, and if even if she wouldn't have, she would still have paid no attention. No, no criminals tried to get to her as yet.  She did miss some important points, though. A smoke rose on the northern horizon, a village was ruined in the west, a forest that was not on the maps passed by in the east. Emyra was too lost in dreams, as always, to notice any.

When it was about noon, she found she couldn't go any further. She was tired, saddle-sore, her whole body ached, she felt dirty and she was homesick. Most of her wanted to sleep, another part wanted to cry, and a very small part wanted to go on. That very small part almost immediately realized how small and hopeless it was, and joined the part that wanted to sleep. The part that wanted to cry made a huge attempt to be the overwhelming one, and eventually came as far as to influence her body enough to cry while falling asleep.