Cythra/Storyteller

My name is Tynx. Tynx of Szalla.

I am the only child of Molx and Nalya.

I guess we couldn't afford longer names.

We are a family of simple means.

It is expected of me, I'm sure, to always be of simple means.

But I dream of something bigger.

My parents think that I am odd for being such a fan of the old man I only know as the Storyteller. What parent wants an odd child?

They say his stories will warp my young mind but, regardless of that, I often imagine myself as a storyteller, travelling the lands and entertaining rapt crowds. Maybe I'd even warp a mind or two.

My parents call it a fantasy. Maybe they are right.

"Magic is gone," they'd tell me.

I'd argue that, the Gifted have foretold magic will return one day, but my parents said, "If magic is gone, how can the Gifted have the magic to foretell anything?"

I explain that the Hunter, the subject of the Storyteller's tales, does not use magic. He doesn't need it.

Needless to say, my words always fell on deaf ears.

Stories about the Hunter have a different kind of magic: The magic of wonder.

I can lose myself in them. Imagine I'm somewhere else. Someone else.

After the tale ended and the crowd scattered back to their daily business, I approached the Storyteller.

"How do you do it?"

The Storyteller looked at me thoughtfully.

"Just like everybody else I guess."

I gave the Storyteller a confused look as he chuckled to himself.

The Storyteller gazed at me as though he was looking right through me.

No, not through me. Right into me. Into my soul.

An expression of understanding crossed the Storyteller's face though, personally, I didn't understand it at all. Not yet.

"I just take down what the Hunter said happened."

"You mean you actually know the Hunter and the stories are true?"

He hesitated before answering. "Yes."

I stared awestruck at the Storyteller.

Nobody I knew would believe such a thing possible.

"Not necessarily every word. I mean, a mountain cat's eyes don't actually glow red. I embellished a little here and there but the tales are real. You'll see what I mean."

I looked at him, confused by his words.

The Storyteller rested a gentle hand on my shoulder.

I suddenly found myself blinking my eyes at the abrupt darkness surrounding me. I felt like I was going to throw up.

A voice nearby startled me, "Stay close kid."

I bit back a retort about not being a child anymore as I tried to get my bearings.

When my eyes adjusted I realized I was not in total darkness. Dim light filtered from above and glittered faintly on the jagged cavern walls. When I looked at the speaker I knew, even in the darkness, that I was in the presence of the Hunter.

Stunned, all I could think to do was follow instructions and move closer to the Hunter in the cave-like crevasse.

The Hunter forged ahead silently.

My feet crunched on the rocks below.

In my dazed state I stumbled over the uneven ground.

"It's just ahead," the Hunter stated quietly.

I had no idea what he was talking about.

We slowly approached a rough, narrow split in the left wall.

"It was here," the Hunter said running his hand around inside the opening.

Absently I asked, "What was?"

"Mountain cat. It probably heard us coming and ran off."

That got my attention.

A real mountain cat? I felt a chill run down my arms in the already cold air at the thought of encountering the legendary beast.

I shivered involuntarily.

I'd never felt such relief as I did when we emerged from the crevasse into the sunlight. On our way out I jumped and started at every sound.

The heat of the sun's rays felt glorious on my arms; a feeling that took me back to summer days spent frolicking with other children from the village.

"What's your name kid?"

"I'm Tynx."

"Tynx, eh? I'm Hunter. Nice to meet ya. You're a bit smaller than I expected."

"Expected? Where am I? What is this place? How did I get here? What happened? Where's my village," I blurted. I tried not to sound too frantic. I'm not sure I succeeded.

The Hunter chuckled to himself.

"Would you believe you're in a storybook?"

What kind of strange question was that?

"No," was all I said.

"Good."

I stared at him incredulously, mouth agape. I had no idea how to respond to that.

Now that I could see him properly, his faced looked somehow familiar but I couldn't place why.

"Listen kid, let's take a walk. I have a cabin nearby. I'm hungry and I bet you are too. We can talk over a meal."

I gazed at him for a long moment. Food hadn't even entered my mind. What other choices did I have? With a slight nod of acquiescence I started down the jagged slope.

"Kid. It's this way."

The Hunter led me over the ridge and down the other side.

This side of the mountain was less craggy, quite green and had a gentler slope.

We walked together in silence. Well, to be fair the Hunter's great strides carried him along swiftly while I endeavored to keep up.

Eventually, as we emerged from a copse of evergreens, I could see what appeared to be a small cabin ahead of us.

Outside the cabin stood a group of people clad in deeply hooded, dark robes. They were formed in a semicircle with one of them standing in the center.

Seeing the group, the Hunter slowed his approach. I instinctively moved a little behind the Hunter as we walked.

We walked straight towards the person in the center of the semicircle but stopped a respectful distance back.

"Greetings," said the Hunter as I tried to subtly peek around him.

There must have been a dozen gathered there. They stood stolid and still.

"Well met Hunter," came a quiet but resounding voice from within the shadow of the hood. "And to you Tynx of Szalla."

I was flummoxed.

"Do not look so surprised child of Molx. You know us."

They were the Gifted. I was in the presence of the Gifted.

"Come out that we may see you."

I cautiously stepped from behind the Hunter and made an effort to stand tall and proud. I also tried to hide my trembling. I'm not sure I succeeded.

"We know that you have questions about why you were sent here."

Sent? That made no sense! Who would have sent me here and why? How could this have happened? My mind was reeling.

"Sent," was all I could mutter.

"You, Tynx of Szalla, are to be an apprentice," stated the strangely echoing voice. "Learn well."

"An apprentice?" My voice was practically a whisper.

"The Hunter cannot endure forever. You are to continue his work."

The Hunter gave no reaction.

Something inside me snapped and the wall holding back the flood inside me collapsed.

"Me? Who decided that? What makes you think I can do this? How did I get here? Are you nuts? This is all crazy! Maybe I'm crazy! Maybe it's all just a dream! Maybe my parents were right about those stories warping my mind! Oh no! I've been warped!"

At that the Hunter softly chuckled to himself.

I felt like I was having trouble catching my breath. I was proud of myself for not fainting.

"It is an old magic. Acceptance will come."

"I'll never accept this. Neither will my family."

My family must be worried. I'd been too caught up in my own feelings to consider them.

I tried to put on a brave face. I'm not sure I was successful.

"It is part of the old magic. Acceptance will come."

I stared defiantly at the Gifted. Not a one of them moved even slightly.

"You act like this kind of thing happens to you every day. Well, it doesn't happen to me every day. In fact it NEVER happens to me."

Magic? How was this possible? Everybody knows magic is gone; It's been gone since a time before my parents. How could everybody be wrong?

"Destiny cannot be evaded."

"Train him well Hunter."

The Gifted moved off as one.

The small cabin was rough and rustic but solid.

The single room lacked any decoration and was sparely furnished.

Getting firewood from the box which doubled as a bench, the Hunter immediately began building a fire in the stone fireplace.

"Lucky thing I was here when that mountain cat was spotted. It's been killing local livestock and it might only be a matter of time before it attacks a person."

After a few minutes I ventured to ask, "How far is the village of Szalla?"

He thought a moment, "In all my travels I've never heard of it."

"Then how do I get home? I have to take care of Old Gus." Old Gus is my cat. We used to call him Young Gus but those days are behind him now.

"I don't think you can. I don't really understand what's happening or how except that apparently I am to train you."

I sat dejected.

The fire popped sending a pair of errant embers skittering across the floor.

Slapping his hands on his knees, "Right. Supper," the Hunter said.

He rose and stepped on the embers to extinguish them. "But first..."

He went to a tall cupboard and withdrew an oilcloth bundle which he handed to me.

"You should take this."

I numbly accepted. Inside was a sword, scabbard and a sword belt.

I ate supper in a quiet haze. I don't even remember what it was we ate.

I slept fitfully and woke the next morning with fresh determination and maybe even a little acceptance. Acceptance? Was this an effect of the magic? I rationalized to myself that perhaps the faster I was able to prove I was the wrong person for this, whatever it is, the faster the magic would send me home.

After a moment I even decided to strap on the sword belt.

The belt and the scabbard were well constructed from plain leather that was aging well.

The sword's hilt was a simple, wrapped leather style. The blade gleamed with a mirror finish and, as far as I could tell, had a keen edge. There was a single, stylized symbol that I didn't recognize deeply engraved into the ricasso.

I felt almost brave with a sword at my hip.

"You've got this," I thought to myself unconvincingly.

The door burst open and I jumped reflexively. It was the Hunter with an armload of firewood.

"It's about time you got up."

"I had a long day yesterday," I said with a frown.

"That's why I let you sleep."

I forced a smile and, slapping the sword at my side, asked, "What do we get to hunt today?"

"Provisions," he chuckled. "Speaking of, your breakfast is on the table."

As we headed out the door the Hunter handed a pack to me and slung another onto his back.

This part of the hill had a comfortable slope which was covered with grass and wildflowers with scattered copses of oaks and evergreens.

The Hunter explained that we were headed to a village called Fluev for supplies. He described Fluev as being, "down the mountain".

There was bound to be someone in the village "down the mountain" who had heard of Szalla.