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There was a terrible drought. With drought, comes fire. The fire spread throughout the tiny island, consuming all in its path. Many people lost their lives, other went without shelter and food. The fire chased the people from the center of the island out to the shore. There, on the cove, the fire was put out by a monsoon.
There the people settled.
Sixteen years later, to the son of the people’s leader, was born a son. His second son. As per tradition, his first son was named after himself. And so his second son was to be named after someone he admired. His brother was killed trying to save people from the fire. Tyflyn.
At almost five years of age, Tyflyn had yet to say a word. All in the family were concerned. As the leader’s son, all in the village were aware of the boy’s silence. It was an embarrassment to Froth.
One day as Spring took her newly born daughter and older son out to market, Froth confronted Tyflyn. “Boy, what is the matter with you? Why do you not speak? Do you realize you are making a fool of me? I hear the people talking, saying I have an idiot son. Why do you not speak!?” He had grabbed Tyflyn by the arms, shaking him violently. Tyflyn started to cry, trying to pull free.
“S-s-stop it!”
Froth released his son and stumbled away. “What did you say?” Tyflyn sniffled into his sleeve. “You... you...”
“Dear? What is the matter? Why is Tyflyn crying?” Spring came into the room and hugged her son.
“He is... broken.”
“Broken? How so?”
“He... he is a failure to this family. He can’t even speak properly.” With that, he walked out of the room, leaving behind a very confused Spring and Tylun.
“Tyflyn, dear, what did he mean by that? Will you tell Momma?”
“I f-f-failed, p-poppa.” Spring gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. She swallowed, gathering her courage.
“No, dear, you just have a problem. You must work very hard to overcome it. This is what we will do. You will continue not speaking. Nobody will need know about this... this problem. Alright?”
Wiping away his tears, Tyflyn nodded and Spring left the room. Once she was gone, Tylun hugged his brother. “It’s alright. I don’t mind the way you speak. You can talk with me all you want. And you will get better at it. Then you will really impress the family. They will be sorry for the way they treated you.”
“R-r-really?”
“I promise.”
Around one stall, he caught sight of his brother leaving the market. He followed Tylun into an alley where several other children were gathered.
“No, he isn’t,” Tyflyn heard Tylun say.
“I say ‘e is. ‘E don’t talk none to anybody, like ‘e thinks ‘e’s too good for us. Whenever ‘e comes out of the manor, ‘e ‘ides behind ‘is momma’s skirts. ‘E’s just a big baby.”
“Maybe he ‘don’t talk none’ because he doesn’t want to talk like you.” The two boys glared at each other.
“Awww, either way, ‘e’s still just a big baby. ‘Is sisters an’ you do everything for ‘im. Maybe ‘e really is a little girl and your family lied to everybody ‘cause your momma couldn’t get another boy.” The other children laughed.
Tylun punched the other boy, starting a brawl. Tyflyn crept away, ashamed. It was true, his siblings had always did everything for him. Even now, Tylun was fighting a fight he should have been fighting. Tyflyn left the village.
In the center of the island, a steep mountain rose high above the land. At the base of said mountain, there was a small cave Tylun had shown Tyflyn many years ago. There is where Tyflyn hid. He hid there for several hours until an idea came to him.
At the top of this mountain in which he hid, was a temple. There was only one way to get to it. Climb the mountain’s steepest side. He would prove to everybody that he was not just a big baby. He left the cave and began his accent. As darkness fell, he found himself only a few meters above ground level. He hugged the cliff side, scared. Pulling in all of his courage, he began to move once again. He placed his hand on a loose rock and fell to the ground with a painful thud.
“Well, good morning, little one.” He snapped his eyes open to see a man hovering over him with a bowl in his hands. “Drink this. It will make you feel better.” Tyflyn pushed himself up, then cried out as pain shot up his arm. “Careful, little one, you fell hard on your right side. You broke, let’s see, one finger, your elbow and your knee. (Oh, and don’t forget that nasty little cut you have on your lip. I think it will scar.) You won’t be moving for quite some time now. Here, use your other hand.” Tyflyn took the bowl and nodded his thanks. “What were you doing out there anyway?” Tyflyn shrugged. “You don’t talk much, do you?” He seemed to wait for an answer. “Alright, well, my name is Dukuat. You will not be leaving here until your knee heals, so make yourself at home. What is your name?”
“T-T-Tyflyn.”
Dukuat raised a brow, but otherwise said nothing. He nodded and left Tyflyn to finish the broth. When Tyflyn had finished the broth, Dukuat returned to change his bandages. When he went to brush away his hair to place a salve on the cut on Tyflyn’s face, Tyflyn pulled away. “D-d-don’t look at m-m-me.”
“Why not, little one?”
“I’m a f-f-failure. I’m not w-w-worth looking at.”
“And why is that?”
“I c-c-can’t do anything on m-my own. I’m w-w-worthless.”
Dukuat pulled his face back and place the salve on the wound. “Not worthless, just untrained.” Still, Tyflyn wouldn’t look up, always hiding his face.
Two days later, Dukuat presented him with a walking stick. “You may leave the cot, but only for a short time. Do not pressure yourself.” He laid the stick on the cot and left the room. Tyflyn struggled to his feet and, almost half an hour later, made it out of the room. Panting, the boy glared at Dukuat. “You c-c-could have helped m-m-me!”
“Why?”
Not knowing how to answer, Tyflyn scowled and found a seat on the porch. He studied the walking stick. It was well made, sleek and curved. “T-t-t-thank you. W-w-where did y-y-you g-g-et it?”
“I made it. It was going to be a bow, but, well, you came along.”
He began to pick at the bandaging on his hand.
“Don’t do that.” He ignored him. After he pulled off the bandage, he curled his fingers into a fist and sighed. “Put that back.”
“D-d-don’t wanna. It hurts k-k-keeping it like that.”
“If you don’t, your finger will heal all wrong.”
“I d-d-don’t care. I hurts, k-k-keeping it s-s-strait.”
The two sat in silence for a while, watching the sun set. After it had fallen behind the horizon, Dukuat said, “Time for bed, little one. Go inside now.” Tyflyn wrinkled his nose and again struggled to his feet and limped into the house.
The next day, Dukuat woke him and held out a bowl of paint. “This is war paint. I used to use it, but have no need of it now. And so I give it to you. Here.” He painted Tyflyn’s face. “There, until you feel more confidant you can wear that.”
“Oi, Tyflyn, I repaired your cloths. They are next to your cot. Get dressed and we will go out into the forest today.” Tyflyn smiled sideways and went to change out of the robe he’d been wearing for the past week. When he returned to Dukuat’s side, Dukuat took one long look at him. “Those look like girl’s clothes.”
“They are,” Tyflyn answered, carefully thinking about every word, just as Dukuat had taught him. “I took them from my sister. She has so many, she would never miss this one set.”
“Why do you wear your sister’s clothes?”
He shrugged. “I d-don’t know. I feel better wearing this. T-t-t-there is not so much pressure from others when I wear this.” Dukuat nodded and they left the clearing.
They walked and talked of many things. “Why am I healing so fast?”
“I have certain abilities. One of them is to heal others.”
“Are you a god?”
He laughed. “If I was a god, I don’t think you would be asking that question.”
“S-so what are you, if not a g-g-god?”
“Dragon-Blooded.”
“R-r-really? Why are you here?”
“I didn’t get along with the others.”
“I thought they were all great warriors.”
“Yes, many are. I don’t know about great, but I am a warrior.”
“You are!? Can you teach me?”
“I don’t know why not. Perhaps we will begin tomorrow.”
“Young girls like you don’t need a blade like that.”
Tyflyn snapped to attention. He glanced at the boy that was leaning against the stall. He thought... well, Tyflyn did have a scarf covering his face. He shrugged and turned away.
“Hey! What was that for? What? Do you think you’re too good to talk with me?” Tyflyn noticed that people were starting to stare. He spun about to face the boy again.
“Don’t make a scene.”
‘What’d’ya mean?”
“You h... heard me.” He walked away, searching for Dukuat. The boy followed.
“What? Are you afraid of people seeing you?”
“Something like that,” he whispered.
“What do you mean?” The boy followed him, still. Finally, Tyflyn spotted Dukuat. Dukuat led them into an alley. “Why are you afraid of people seeing you?” Once he was sure that nobody was around, Tyflyn turned on him, pulling off the scarf and hat.
“Why do you think?”
“You... you’re a boy!?”
“Alright, you know, leave now.”
“Why do you dress like a girl?”
“Not your business.”
“Um... well, my sister can make some clothes that, well, look better on you.”
“Why are you helping me?”
“Let’s just say I don’t like seeing a boy in girl’s clothes. Come on, I’ll take you to see my sister.” He pulled Tyflyn through the market and into the village. “By the way, I’m Ira, who are you?”
“Um... I’m N ... Nolyn.”
“W-what’s going on?” Dukuat left the room and returned with his armor. Quickly, he dressed the sleepy boy.
“You must leave. Now. Here, there is a secret door that leads to the village.” He pulled Nolyn to his feet and pushed him into the dark corridor. Frightened, Nolyn followed the path. What had just happened? Did Dukuat no longer want him to live with him? Was he really that worthless? Crying, Nolyn returned to the village.
Nolyn held up and jingled a purse of coins. “I am going to the market.” He left the house. In the four years since he had left Dukuat’s side, nothing had changed. Still did Nolyn wear the face paint and feminine clothes. Somewhere deep in his heart, Nolyn took a little pleasure in knowing that he humiliated his father.
He met up with Ira and the two started a game of dice. Luck was always on Nolyn’s side. He won thirty jade coins. “You! You’re like a pirate. Hey, do’you know what? I saw a pirate that looked just like you! He had more jewelry than you.” Nolyn grinned.
“When were pirates here?”
“Years ago. There were two Dragon-Blooded ships and a pirate ship just around the cove. I think they thought to rob it.”
“What were the Dragon-Blooded doing here?”
“I don’t know, but they had a large red-headed man all tied up with them. They took him onto one of the ships. They had beaten him a really something.”
Red headed? Dukuat? He had said that they didn’t agree on something... would they have?
Not since the day he had run, had Nolyn returned to Dukuat’s house in the forest. Maybe it was time. Time to find out what had happened that night.
He left with the setting sun. He didn’t need sunlight to follow the underground path that he had taken four years ago. The secret door was blocked, and took much pressing and pushing to open it. Within the house, only burnt remains stood in place of the homely building. Tall grasses and weeds had taken over long ago, giving testament to the time that had pasted since the fire.
All of those years... Dukuat was protecting him from what had happened here. They had taken him captive, and he had done nothing... He had repaid Dukuat’s kindness by abandoning him.
Was he really that pathetic?
Hardening his heart, Nolyn left the rubble. He would find Dukuat. He would rescue him and prove to everyone, to himself, to Dukuat, that he was something. He wasn’t a failure.
Where to start?
