Prologue

Two wide, gentle rivers separated the two civilizations of Festrin and Galaheen. There was a large strip of very rich, fertile land between these two rivers, but no crops had ever been planted there. No footprints disturbed the dirt; no dust was unsettled by human hands. The wind would scoop up the earth and whip it around in columns, but some force – divine or magical or maybe just natural – seemed to never let this earth travel to the West, to Festrin, or to the East, to Galaheen. It merely settled down after a few glorious seconds of freedom, never to escape the dull setting of life put before it, the eternal suit that must be followed.

Neither Festrin nor Galaheen claimed the piece of land, but both sincerely wanted it. The two different towns were not very rich, so if one city was to plant their crops in the fertile strip of land, it was believed that they would be abundant in health and happiness.

Festrin and Galaheen had been twin brothers who had built two different towns and performed ceremonies to the gods on the land between the rivers, which aids to the myth as to why no dirt can be swept away from it – it is sacred ground. However, the two towns quickly grew farther and farther apart when a group of mutineers, hating how Festrin had turned into a tyrant, drew a weapon on him. When they had finished the job, it was revealed that they had killed not Festrin, but Galaheen, becoming confused because they were identical. When Festrin discovered this, he immediately sentenced the insurgents to death, but the damage was done: the towns of Festrin and Galaheen would never be the joyous, loving towns they were before.

The strip of land was then abandoned and never touched again. Both Festrin and Galaheen yearned to be the one to claim it, but neither did out of fear of starting a huge cataclysm. It was considered an act of war to even cross one of the rivers to touch the ground.

The river separating Festrin from this fertile land was called Yasandri River, after the god of nature. The one separating Galaheen was named the Tujon River, after the god of magic. Yasand and Tujo were brothers who had a terrible argument, shaking the world with many earthquakes and causing great splits in the ground. The argument was over whether magic was beneficial to the people or not. Tujo wanted to spread his wealth of knowledge to the common people, but Yasand insisted that they should be allowed to discover things on their own.

Naming the two rivers after the two warring godly brothers was almost a prediction as to what happened to Festrin and Galaheen.

Lionel Smithson stood clutching his mother’s hand, listening to all of the snide, sneering murmurs and the soft sobbing of Mrs. Aston. He could see his friend, Roy Aston, hugging his mother and silently letting tears drip down his face, but neither spoke a word. Lionel could hear snippets of gossip dancing upon the wind towards him:

“ – crossed the Yasandri – ”

“…what kind of parenting is that, I ask you…”

“Did you hear?”

“…dreadful, simply dreadful!”

“ – I don’t know whether to hate or pity the family!”

“Momma, what’s going on?” whispered Lionel softly, looking up at his mother. Mrs. Smithson looked down at him, her eyes hardened but glistening with forced back tears. She took a deep breath before responding.

“Roy has done something very bad,” she muttered back. Nobody seemed willing to talk in a normal level; they all had to whisper. “It is unclear what the results will be, but there will definitely be severe consequences.”

“What has he done?” asked Lionel, looking about the town square. “Momma, what did Roy do?”

Mrs. Smithson merely shook her head slowly, unwilling to answer. Lionel looked at Roy, his shoulders quivering, his hands shaking. Roy was very frightened, it was clear, but he was trying to hide all of that and hold a brave face in front of his mother. Roy was a full year older than Lionel, but he was still only eleven-years-old. What had he done that was so condemning?

“Roy Aston,” blared the voice of the current King of Festrin, King Instrid. He strode forward to Roy, who looked the King full in the eyes, “you have committed a felony! What do you have to say that could possibly save you?”

“I didn’t know,” cried out Roy weakly. “Please, Milord, I didn’t know, don’t kill me…don’t kill me, please, it would kill my dear old mother…”

“You will not die,” replied King Instrid harshly. “I will allow the gods to make judgment on you. But by breaking sacred law, you have started a war. A war, I tell you! A war between Festrin and Galaheen!” He slammed his great scepter against the ground, the noise slashing through the horrified silence. “The first ever! The Council of Elders over there have declared war against us, Roy Aston, because you crossed the Yasandri River! What were you planning on doing then?”

“I—I—I—…” Tears begin to fall thicker now. Roy tried to halt them, but it was an almost futile effort.

“Well?!”

“My mother is sick!” yelled Roy, trembling all over from nerves. “I thought—I thought that if I went over there and took some of the dirt and brought it back, I could grow better vegetables and, and…”

“You thought you could heal her?” King Instrid looked down at Roy derisively. “Foolish, foolish boy! You were willing to risk the lives of every Festrinite, every Galaheenian, just for your ailing mother?!”

“I didn’t know – I wasn’t thinking!” exclaimed Roy, clutching his hands into fists. “I am so sorry, Milord King Instrid! I am…so sorry…”

King Instrid looked down furiously at the trembling boy. It was clear, from the look on his face, that he held nothing but disgust and hatred for the son of a common laborer. “Take him away,” he spat, jerking a hand at his guards. “Let him sit in prison overnight. Let him contemplate how much damage he has done, how many lives will be destroy because of his foolish mistake.”

Lionel watched in horror as Roy Aston was taken away by a pair of guards. The crowd dispersed, and Lionel headed home with his mother, back to the small rooms above his father’s smithy. They walked slowly as the first calls of war began to ring through the twilit skies, still echoing as Lionel lay in bed, gazing up at the starry night sky. He wondered if a child in Galaheen was looking up at the sky, too, gazing at the same stars, and hating him merely because he was from the city of Festrin.

---

This is The Land Between Two Rivers (LB2R), which is the first novel that I have successfully co-authored and completed. I wrote the Prologue, odd chapters, and Epilogue; my co-author, Yunwei Sun, wrote the even chapters. Currently, we are also working on another novel, Rayonnee, which I might put up on FictionPress if reviewers so desire. For those of you who are also reading my octet, I will continue updating that along with this.