Halfway Human (Part 1 - Prologue)

As narrated by Raff Goldenstrings
May 8th, 695CC
Thirteen years prior to the events in The Acolyte's Map

The fox has instructed me that I'm t'tell this truthfully and completely, leaving out nothing this time. I feel silly speaking t'naught but the air- and my pet mouse and the bossy fox, I suppose- but Felix says that I needs must speak what's true t'atone for the false I told the healer earlier. I don't understand this. I've been taught t'bend the truth when I needta and I didn't speak false so much as leave bits out. Why are the words I use around Saef so important that I must be chastened so by his- our- animal guide? Maybe I shouldn't of- shouldn't have- even bothered telling Saef anything, but I'm not sure he was convinced I'm what I say I am. Okay, and I was also kind of hoping my story would get a smile out of him. He never smiles and I'm not entirely convinced that he knows how t'laugh. I wish I knew why he's always so grumpy and prickly. I mean, he wasn't the one captured...

But that's nothing t'do with what I've been instructed t'say. I must do as I'm bid, especially when it comes from a fox, and hope I finish before Saef returns; he already thinks me crazy for talking t'animals. I can only imagine what he'd do if he found me talking t'the sky! Most of what I said t'him was true. I am a priest of Hermes; two months ago I was ordained and given the title ″Prior″. (Maybe a bit longer than two months, now as I think on it; I was in the dark place so long, I don't rightly know today's date.) I know I don't seem old enough t'be more than an acolyte, but I truly am older'n I look. I'm twenty-two, 'though if I'm t'be honest, were I human it would perhaps be more like seventeen. The other Messengers were never really sure what age t'treat me, so it was assumed I was of age with the young acolytes I trained with.

'Tis somewhat strange for me t'be a Messenger, with my pointed ears and all, but we all do come from different walks of life. Farm boys, children of merchants and traders, young people who grew up knowing the woods as I did, even nobles; my mate's a nob, as is a lass who trained with us. Any can be picked for this order, so long as they have something that makes them fit. Generally that trait is mischief, but our skills and hobbies vary as much as our backgrounds do. All this is the truth, as is what I told Saef about my life 'fore entering the priesthood.

I was raised by my mother and grew up around her kin; they're trackers, rangers, and various woodsy sorts. My da would visit us, but he was never so good at spending time in the wilderness and my mum always says she isn't comfortable in cities. (I still don't know how that relationship ever worked... but now that I'm older and have a love, I guess I can personally attest that sometimes opposites do attract!) My father was always amused that I joined up with a human priesthood despite my upbringing which should have left me more elf than human. He never got t'see me ordained though; he passed a few years back. My mum's always refused t'tell me exactly what happened and she'd become distraught whenever I asked, so I stopped. Maybe someday she'll tell me, but I haven't the heart t'upset her. This, too, is all truth.

Where it got a bit hazy was when I started goin' deeper with my tale of how I came t'be a Messenger. At the fox's request, I'll try t'speak clearer and tone down my accent so I'm more understandable. Felix, ye know no one's listening, aye? ... You know no one is listening, correct? Better? You are worse than the priest who instructed us in languages, ye know- I'm amazed that dealing with me didn't make him hand in his robes and run off t'be a hermit, far away from stubborn and thickheaded elves.

((This narration takes place during "In the Cards" [my current novel that's also currently a messy rough draft], shortly after he meets Seph [whose name he can't pronounce yet], and is introducing a short story about Raff's past. I'll be posting the next part soon!))

Adventures of a Young Messenger - And Here Begins a Lifetime of Pranks (Part 6)

Part 6 - And Here Begins a Lifetime of Pranks
(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5)

A strange sound close by Cyneric's head woke him the next morning. Opening his eyes, he saw that he was practically nose-to-nose with a small brown mouse that was sitting on his chest and chittering. He blinked at it in surprise a few times; he was more startled that an animal had already located him than at finding one there, however. "Good morning, little guy. How'd you get up here?" he asked it through a yawn.

As he sat up and moved the mouse into his hand, it chattering away in its rodent language all the while, he noticed there were a few bugs on the blanket, as well. That's rather odd, he thought to himself, but shrugged. A mouse showing up to have a morning conversation wasn't particularly strange, but bugs were new. Transferring the mouse onto his shoulder, he scooped the stray bugs into his hands and got out of bed, asking them in a soft voice how they ended up in here. He didn't expect an answer, but it had become instinct to talk to small critters, even the crawly ones.

It wasn't until Cyneric had walked over to the window to set the insects free that he noticed three of the other kids standing in the room, eying him in what looked like confusion mixed with amusement. One was a blond boy who had probably been the youngest acolyte until yesterday, another was a slightly older dark haired girl, and the third was the half-elf Cyneric had noticed the day before. He looked to be about fourteen, but with elves and half-elves, who can tell? With all those eyes on him, especially the uncannily bright green ones belonging to the elf, Cyneric became embarrassed, assuming that they had heard him speaking to the bugs; he didn't have a good track record for people reacting well to that kind of thing. He felt himself blush even more when they failed to say anything. I hate being the center of attention, so why are they here? They had to see how uncomfortable he was as he looked from the mouse to the floor, not daring to make eye contact.

Finally the younger boy broke the awkward silence and said simply, "Well, that backfired."

That got Cyneric to finally look at them from behind a curtain of black hair. "What?" That didn't even make any sense. He wondered if he should doubt the other boy's sanity, but realized he probably had no room to talk judging from the mouse perched on his shoulder like a parrot.

The older boy- the half-elf... what was his name? Something with an 'R', right?- looked sheepish. "We thought ye'd be afraid of them." He had an odd accent and spoke with something of a brogue, and, while understandable, still didn't make any sense.

Perplexed, Cyneric asked, "Come again?"

The girl ever-so-helpfully commented without elaboration, "The bugs and rat."

At the same time Cyneric and the half-elf corrected her by chiming in "It's a field mouse". They looked at each other in surprise but the human could tell that the other's was cheerful astonishment by the fact that he was trying to hide a grin behind his hand. Without thinking, Cyneric had defaulted to what his brother referred to as "annoyingly know-it-all", so he was glad to see that grin since it meant they likely weren't going to take offense.

Still not understanding, the newest acolyte asked, "Why should a mouse and an assortment of insects frighten me?"

"We heard you were … um..." the girl fumbled for a word to use here.

"Rich," the younger boy immediately supplied.

"Lyle!" That was obviously not the word she'd been looking for. Or possibly it was the word she had been diplomatically trying to avoid.

The boy shrugged. "What? Elli is and she's afraid of 'em."

She rolled her eyes in an exasperated manner. "Still, that's not polite, you know."

The half-elf meanwhile looked at the other two in amusement and explained further, "We thought it'd be a good prank t'hit ye with."

The girl shrugged. "Not the best try, I'll admit, but Lyle thought it would work."

"Hey, it should have!"

The half-elf and girl were both now rolling their eyes, but didn't actually seem upset at him. Cyneric began to get the feeling that those two didn't often go along with Lyle's ideas, but liked to humor him. Needless to say, he wasn't feeling so shy or embarrassed anymore, thinking the three were more comedy act than threat, even to someone so introverted. "You mean you thought I'd be afraid of a little mouse and some insects because I'm from an aristocratic family?"

"Possibly?" Now it was the girl's turn to look sheepish.

Cyneric pretended to eye the mouse suspiciously and said to it, "Are you in on this, too? You're not actually a rat in disguise, are you?" He was rewarded with more chittering as a reply, not that he knew if it was agreeing or not, but it was well-placed chittering at least.

He gave a small smile, trying to be friendly but being rather at a loss as to how to go about doing so; this was the most social interaction he'd had in... well, ever. "I guess next time you know not to get me this way." An idea occurred to him and he added, "If animals and such work on this Elli, perhaps I can help you catch them in the future? I'd imagine toads would function well."

The trio gave almost identical roguish grins and Cyneric couldn't help breaking into laughter. Maybe it won't be so hard to fit in here? As if echoing his thoughts, the older boy told him, "I think ye'll fit in jus' fine. Anyone who starts off wanting t'prank Elli is welcome in my book."

Cyneric grinned and handed him the mouse. "Would I be correct in assuming this is yours?" The animal acted more like a pet than something wild and he knew it was unlikely that field mice would be living in a city church. He supposed it was rather species-ist to assume an odd pet belonged to an elf, but sure enough, as soon as the mouse was in his hand, it scampered up his arm and onto his shoulder, where it promptly began to chew on one of his long braids.

The boy chuckled and asked "Are ye sure you're not pulling our legs and are actually a really young ranger?"

The baffled look the young human gave him caused him to laugh and he added, "'Tis strange, is all." Noticing Cyneric's returning embarrassment, he thankfully changed the subject. "Ye've probably forgotten all our names- I know I couldn't keep track when I got here. I'm Raff." Ah, so it is an 'R' name! Cyneric thought. Raff gestured towards the door, through which the other boy had already wandered off through during the mouse exchange, "That numskull was Lyle."

Here the girl added her introduction, "And I'm Liz. Pay no mind to Lyle- he doesn't mean to be rude but... the boy has no attention span."

Cyneric shrugged. "Not a problem. Okay, Raff, Lyle, Liz. Well, that's a start and hopefully I will remember what name goes with who."

Liz grinned back. "As long as you don't think either of us are Lyle, you'll be fine."

Cyneric smiled, mirroring their impish grins without realizing. "Ah, so you don't want to be mistaken for him. I see." Being who he was, though, he couldn't help asking about the mouse. "Now, does the mouse have a name, or is that going to make this name thing even more confusing?"

"Of course she has a name," Raff answered as he stroked the mouse gently between the ears, "It's Tyu." Well, that answered the last part of my question, too, Cyneric thought.

Echoing that inner comment, Liz piped up, "Which falls under 'more confusing'."

Raff laughed. "Nah, it's easy. And ye can call her 'Cheese' if ye want- that's what it's short for."

Realization dawned on Cyneric. "Oh! That's Elvish; I should have caught that." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized how conceited that made him sound- again- and he started to apologize.

The half-elf looked rather shocked, but waved his hand to dismiss the apology. "You can speak Elvish?" he asked in said language. Cyneric thought that it sounded more like his reaction was over the fact that he knew the language, not over that specific comment, thankfully.

"Yes." Feeling that he should be truthful, he added, "However, it is the only other language I have learned. Is that odd that I speak it?"

"You know, I think I caught all of three words in there," Liz said in what appeared to be mock indignation before Raff could answer the question.

Apparently ignoring the girl, he nodded and answered, "Yes, it is sort of odd. I think you are the only other acolyte who came in knowing Elvish and you are excessively human."

"Thank you, I think?" How could one be excessively human, anyway? I guess from a half-elf's point of view, that statement works, Cyneric reasoned.

Raff shook his head, his braids whipping back and forth. "I just meant that it is surprising. There is more to you than you think, Cyneric."

That bewildered him; how was knowing a language or being good with animals surprising? It's not as though those were rare abilities, and neither had ever been particularly useful. Cyneric felt himself blush and switched back to Common so as to not leave Liz out of the conversation- and so that he could change the subject. "If you say so. But please just call me Cyn."

Liz jumped on that; Cyneric was beginning to notice that she'd take any opportunity to play a game of wits. "I take it not like moderate evil?"

Cyneric snickered, catching the pun. "Definitely not. Slightly, perhaps, but never moderately."

"Sure ye are," Raff grinned, then asked, "But why not 'Eric'? That would avoid those kind of comments."

"Gods, no. Definitely never 'Eric'." Noticing that the half-elf was taken aback by his empathetic reply, he tried to explain in a calmer voice, "That's a family name ending and I'd rather not be associated with them."

"Don't get along with them, I take it?" Liz asked.

"That would very much be an understatement." Cyneric shrugged, brushing this off and changing the subject again. I'm not very good at this, am I? "If you don't mind me saying, 'Raff' seems a strange name for someone who looks like an elf."

Raff tucked his brown hair behind an ear, as if that comment had drawn attention and reminded him that they were pointed. "Ye shorten your name t'avoid your family. Mine's short because my family made it too long- try getting stuck with a name like Rafion Goldenstrings."

Okay, maybe I have no room to complain about my name; at least it's normal. "Ouch. But that doesn't sound elven either." He quickly caught himself, not knowing what the half-elf's opinion was about his heritage, and added, "I am sorry! I mean, if you don't mind me saying so."

Raff smiled, apparently not offended. "'Tis fine. Blame my da- he decided his surname was too hard for audiences t'remember, and switched t'something easier. Unfortunately 'easier' also meant 'absolutely silly'."

Not knowing anything about that kind of subject, Cyneric asked about the part of the sentence that had caught his attention. "Audiences?"

"He's a musician."

Here Liz threw in another of her sarcastic retorts, "That certainly explains your flair for the dramatic; it must be hereditary."

Raff winked at her and said dramatically, "Alas! Ye have discovered something I keep secret. Here I was thinking I'd tricked everyone inta thinking I was bland and morose."

Liz broke into a fit of snickering and was finally able to quip back, "Right, keep telling yourself that, elf-boy. And Cyn here really is an ancient ranger."

Cyneric was really starting to enjoy the company of these two, out of his element though he was, and tried his own silly comment in defense, "Perhaps I am just cleverly disguised as a bewildered young priest-in-training. You never know." As if on cue, the mouse started chittering again and he added, pretending to understand it, "See? They don't believe us, Tyu."

As Liz started snickering again, Raff grinned at him and said "Ye'll fit in great here. That mouse's a good judge of people."

Said to almost anyone else, their reaction probably would have been laughter at that statement, but Cyneric just grinned back. "I hope so."



((And back to Cyn for a bit! I realized I'd almost finished this months ago but have been so distracted by writing Meren's story that I never posted it. I did change narrative styles, though; now that Cyn's backstory is crossing over with Raff's, it makes more sense to tell it in 3rd person since in the future I'll be switching back and forth between them for stories.))

Adventures of a Young Messenger - Always Trust a Fox (Part 5)

Part 5 - Always Trust a Fox
(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6)

It was an enjoyable trip to Woodland city, it being high summer and having the good companionship of the strange fox and the assorted animal life we met along the way, so I took my time. A day and a half after setting out from my family's manor, I arrived at the gates of Woodland just before sunset. Before I could ask the gatekeeper which way it was to the Messengers' Mosque, he pointed straight ahead and said "Go past the Temple of Apollo until you get to the fountain, turn left and go up the main street. The mosque will be on the left before you get to the fortress." Noticing my confusion- was I in a town of psychics?- he added with a chuckle, "It's the fox, lad. Been here long enough to know that foxes go with Messengers." How could I have missed that obvious fact? It wasn't like anyone who wasn't blind could miss a fox this large; he certainly didn't look like a dog or anything like that!

With a sheepish smile at my own obtuseness, I thanked him and continued on, eager to reach my destination and see what these Messengers were like. For one thing, were they really as strange as the impression I'd gotten after reading the scroll?

Turning the corner I saw the mosque before me: a large, old grey stone building with its red double doors ajar, although if this was to let in the cool evening air or out of welcoming, I wasn't sure. I walked up to the doors and, figuring that I wouldn't have to knock since they were already open, peeked in. The fox, knowing that we'd reached our destination and not understanding why I was hesitating on the doorstep, brushed past my legs and entered. I shrugged, then followed him in.

Inside was a small foyer; past that was a large room with many desks, tables, shelves, a great many scrolls and a great many industrious people dressed in red. There were a few adolescents in plain robes (acolytes, I realized), but all looked older than myself; if this was to be my home, it appeared that I was going to be the youngest. Well, at least I was used to that. I also noticed that everyone over the age of eighteen or so looked incredibly tan, but since this was unimportant, it got pushed to the very back of my mind to wonder about later.

The fox led me to an experienced -and busy-looking- priest who fell into the "very tan" category, but then vanished into the bustle as I was distracted by taking in my surroundings. Unsure of how the man would react to being interrupted by a random kid, but assuming that the fox had led me to someone who would be able to help, I cleared my throat and said as politely as possible, "Hello. I apologize for interrupting you but the fox brought me here and I'm not sure where exactly I'm supposed to go..." As the words came out of my mouth, I realized just how silly they sounded.

The man looked up from the parchment he had been reading, and, to my surprise, instead of brushing me off or looking annoyed, gave me a big smile as he said, "Ah, you must be the new kid Armand told us would be arriving. Follow me."

Nodding in agreement that I was, in fact, the "new kid", I followed him through the organized chaos of that work area and up a quieter flight of stairs. He chatted cheerfully to me as we walked through the mosque, although I'll admit that I did more nodding than replying as he was the sort to dominate any conversation (not to mention that I was feeling quite overwhelmed), and we eventually reached a closed door, at which he knocked. A kindly voice invited us into what turned out to be an office; at the desk was a smiling, not quite middle-aged man with black hair and pointed beard, garbed in the most ornate robe I'd seen so far in the mosque. He thanked the priest, whose name was apparently Ronnis, for "not frightening the boy away", which I didn't understand at all, since the man had been nothing but friendly. Instead of looking offended, Ronnis just laughed and retorted "That was once! Besides, he only got as far as the door" before leaving the room. The man behind the desk laughed and muttered something under his breath about some Messengers being too mischievous for their own good.

By this point I was utterly confused; weren't priests supposed to be dour, serious, and... well, boring? This all fit the impression I'd gotten from the scroll, but not any of my preconceived opinions of clerics. The man behind the desk must have noticed the look on my face because he asked, "Not what you expected, lad? Messengers know when to be serious, but Hermes is a Trickster, as well; He likes His followers to have a sense of humor, but that's an understatement when it comes to some of us." He nodded his head in the direction of the recently shut door.

Looking rather embarrassed because I didn't know that and in fact knew very little about Messengers at all; on the rare occasion my family received or sent messages, it was through a horse courier. Not wanting to offend the priest, but figuring I should be honest here, I replied, "I didn't know that, sir. Hermes isn't a god that is often... mentioned by my family." Because the fools think He's a common god and are too pretentious to even stoop to talking about Him, I added to myself, not daring to say that aloud. The man must have had an idea of what I was thinking, though, because he gave me a reassuring smile and said, "It is true that Hermes and his priests are hard working, but that does not make us lowly. However, judging from your expression, you already understand that." I nodded; I found most of the things my family thought to be wrong or stupid, so of course this was no different.

"I'm Armand, by the way; I'm the Head Messenger here, but I'm assuming that since you're here, you got my letter, so you likely already deduced that." I nodded again, although thinking that it would be just like someone like Ronnis to lead a wild goose chase instead of going straight to a destination.

He then went on to explain what it was that Messengers did (carry messages, sort messages, write and read things out for people who couldn't... if it had to do with words, the Messengers were right on top of it) and what I'd have to do (watch and learn and do a lot of the busywork around the mosque with the rest of the acolytes for a few years until I'd be allowed on deliveries). Armand was pleased to learn that I already knew how to read and write in two languages and told me I'd be learning more; that made me quite happy because I'd always wanted to learn more than Common and High Elvish, that second one being the only non-human language my father would allow, and that was begrudgingly.

Armand then showed me around the rest of the mosque, introducing me to the acolytes and a few of the full Messengers who weren't too busy; there were two student-clerics about my age, though older, and a couple more a few years older than that (one of these was elven, which kind of surprised me since everyone else I'd met seemed to be fully human- but judging by the hairstyle and ears, there was no mistaking this boy for a full human), as well as a few older priests and priestesses coming and going. Everyone seemed to be pleasant and good humored, even though none were idle, which certainly fit what I've learned of the Messengers so far.

When we got back to his office, the high priest returned to his seat and asked, "So, do you think you're ready to learn how to be a Messenger? As you likely noticed, you are the youngest here, which might be somewhat challenging to start." Drawing myself up and trying to appear confident- I mean, I was intelligent and ready to work, even if I was also new and young- I replied, "Of course, sir! I don't mind being the youngest; I can work hard and catch up."

Armand smiled. "I thought you might say that. I do have a warning for you, though." That deflated me; don't tell me there was going to be pointless rules here, too? Catching my expression, he quickly added, "Nothing about you per se, lad. I just get the feeling that you haven't been around too many young people and I know how Messengers can be; they're the nicest people I've met, but they can be rather... enthusiastic about pranks, so be careful until you get your feet under you, okay? I don't normally warn the acolytes, but most of them have a better idea of what they're getting into."

I thanked him for the advice and said, "You're right; I'd probably have just walked right into something." I thought for a moment and added, "I probably still will, but at least I'll know to watch out. This is part of the 'learning' thing, too, right?"

"You're catching on, Cyneric. I wish you luck, but I'm sure you'll do fine. One can always trust a fox." He paused in thought for a moment, and added, "Alright, maybe not so much, but Messengers can always trust a fox, if just because we're the only beings more sly than they are."

It wasn't until that night, after I'd settled in and been given my acolyte robes, that I recalled the cryptic warning my brother had given me earlier that week. As I drifted off to sleep on my first night as a cleric-to-be, I mused over how Armand seemed to have echoed his words, only in a way that turned out to be a lot less unnerving. Yes, I knew I was going to like it here, even if my new brethren did turn out to be slightly crazy.


(Part 6 can be found here.)

((Yeah, I had this mostly written months and months ago, but got distracted by Raff and never finished it. Sorry, Cyn. I do love you, too, even if I tend to neglect you for my elves.))

Adventures of a Young Messenger - Breaking the News (Part 4)

Part 4 - Breaking the News
(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5, Part 6)


I awoke the next morning to an unfamiliar weight on my feet. Climbing out of bed, I noticed that the fox had returned, likely through the window that was now slightly ajar. It's a good thing my room was on the ground floor, because otherwise the fox would have... needed wings... actually, that wouldn't be so strange, all things considered, would it? Anyway, determined to leave that day regardless of my parents' opinions, I got dressed and packed my belongings. Here was yet more proof that I was never cut out to be noble; everything important to me fit into one bag with room to spare. This I slung across my back, then headed to the kitchen to find some food to take with me, knowing that it would take me at least a day to get to Woodland on foot.

Leaving the fox in the hallway with my backpack, I found the kitchen bustling as the cook and her help put together breakfast, so I was able to grab some meat and bread and an apple without anyone taking particular notice of me. The kitchen workers were used to my coming and going over the years as I grabbed lunch on the run from my lessons or a few odds and ends to give to my animal friends, and an innocent expression usually got me out of trouble if the cook happened to catch me. This time I earned a raised eyebrow from said woman, but fortunately she didn't try to stop me as I hurried out. I was thankful for small favors there; my mother must have forgotten about me enough to not warn her that under no condition was I to be allowed outdoors, which, as the staff knew well by now, was always my intention when I entered the kitchen.

I figured that by now my family would be sitting down for breakfast and hoping that would distract them some (and counting on Kendric to come to my aid or, knowing him, cause extra distraction if necessary), I picked up my bag, and with the fox at my heels, headed for the dining area to tell them my intentions. Luck was with me because I arrived at the same time as my brother, who gave the fox a head scratch and me a reassuring smile before going in. I waited a few minutes, then followed him with the large fox close by my side. Unsurprisingly, even after clearing my throat a few times my parents failed to notice our presence until the fox made a little growl, at which point my mother and sister began shrieking about how there was a wild animal in the house and how dare I bring that dirty thing in. My brother and I exchanged amused looks while our father tried to calm the women down; the fox gave the scene a vulpine grin, seemingly pleased. Figuring this was a good time while everything was in chaos, I loudly (and with pride, I'll admit) stated above the din, "Just to inform you all, I have been Called by Hermes and, as I'm now under his jurisdiction, will be leaving for Woodland today."

That got everyone's attention. My father looked rather bewildered while my sister wisely said nothing and seemed to be concentrating far too hard on her breakfast. My mother, on the other hand, glowered and exclaimed with disdain something along the lines of "Hermes? Why would you ever pick him?" (Even from across the room, I saw that she was giving Him a small "h".) After my brother finally explained to our father what "jurisdiction" meant (I couldn't even look at Ken at this point, fearing that if I did, I'd break into laughter at the absolute asininity of this whole thing), my father frowned, but began to try to quiet my mother down lest she say something that would earn them dangerous attention from a deity (never a good idea). Looking from the fox to me and back to the fox, she finally lowered her complaints to an inaudible grumble. Before they could think of any sort of logical argument (unlikely as that would be), I then let them know again that I would be leaving now and not to worry about sending anyone with me (also doubtful, but to keep up appearances they might have) since Woodland was hardly a long trek away.

Trusting that Ken would handle his side of the plan, and not wanting to give my parents any time to stop me, I said a quick goodbye and walked out of the room. I later learned from my brother that the fox gave a long, unblinking stare to both of my parents in turn, leaving them speechless for quite some time, and then gave a sly grin to Ken before following me out.


(Part 5 can be found here.)

Adventures of a Young Messenger - Called by a God (Part 3)

Part 3 - Called by a God
(Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6)


There was no sign of the fox for the next few days, and I began to feel disappointed and somewhat foolish. Perhaps it had just been a normal wild fox and maybe the amber had just appeared there by sheer random chance? I sincerely hoped not, but it was possible (and little did I know, I was dealing with a Trickster). On the third night, however, I found the fox sitting in the same spot waiting for me as I strolled with my retinue of stray cats and the odd squirrel. Feeling strangely happy about this, I grinned and said hello. Once again he gave me an odd stare, but this time I didn't feel uncomfortable; if anything, it felt like I was being greeted by an old friend. The fox then rose and, supplanting one of the cats, took his place at my side where he stayed for the remainder of my walk. This same thing occurred for the next few days: I'd reach that spot and the fox would be there to join me. He turned out to be an even better listener than the usual animals I met in my nocturnal travels because, while most animals would sit still while I talked to them, he actually appeared to understand. I must have shared my whole life's story with him in that short time, although what interest that was to a fox, I had no idea.

Unfortunately my birthday soon arrived, bringing with it the accustomed unusual attentiveness by my family for the next day or two while they recalled my existence. I don't remember much of what happened on that birthday, it being spent trying to avoid the usual lectures by my parents along with the added problem of being anxious to get another chance to see the fox, but I do remember Kendric's gift. Unlike the rest of my family who only ever gave me things I neither wanted nor needed (daggers, bits of armor, a sword, books on subjects that didn't interest me... I passed them all on to Ken who could use them), my brother always knew what would be appreciated and this time was no different; he had noticed that I'd begun wearing that piece of amber and had gotten me a strong gold chain for it. This he gave to me along with the cryptic comment, "Good luck". Looking back, I probably should have asked what he meant, but I think I just assumed he was giving me another warning to not let anyone else know what had been happening. It turns out, though, that Ken may have been having one of those psychic sibling moments that occasionally popped up between us.

I wasn't able to sneak out of the house again for a few nights, much to my frustration and impatience, but when I finally did, I was disappointed to find that the fox was once again not waiting for me in his usual spot. With a sigh, figuring that it must have gotten bored with waiting and wandered off somewhere else, I continued on my walk. It wasn't until I'd reached the last part of my wanderings before I'd turn to go back home that I noticed him sitting up on the small hill at the edge of the property. I almost called out to him, forgetting that yelling out would be a bad idea, when the full moon came out from behind the clouds and shone a brilliant beam of light onto the fox. Confused but curious about this sudden show of dramatics focused on an animal, I climbed the hill to investigate. At the top I noticed that, although it was the same fox, he appeared even larger and more vividly-colored than usual, and he seemed to be holding something white in his mouth. Before I could get a better look, he padded over to me and dropped what turned out to be a scroll at my feet. Grateful for the bright moonlight, I saw that it had a small winged fox emblem embossed in the wax seal and was addressed to me by name. (Even then, overwhelmed as I was, I was curious about how an animal could know that the words "Cyneric Conroy" belonged to me. Now that I'm a Messenger, I realize it's quite simple for even an unintelligent animal to carry a message, but at that moment it added to the unearthly atmosphere.)

Breaking the wax and unrolling the scroll, I saw that it read in neat, even handwriting:
"Dear Cyneric,
Congratulations! We have learned at the Woodland Mosque what you have likely deduced some time ago: you have been Called by Hermes to become one of His Messengers. I asked my four-legged friend to convey this message to you as I know that he will get this scroll to you safely. Please conclude whatever needs to be completed and set out as soon as you can. The fox has agreed to stay by your side until you arrive and I hope that he will help convince your kin that you are serious.
We hope to meet you soon,
Armand, Head Messenger- Order of the Fleet Fox, Woodland"

Flipping it over I noticed the words:
"PS. This letter will self-destruct in five seconds upon reading this sentence."

Then further down:
"Just kidding!"

After staring in befuddlement at the bizarre mixed message from this letter and wondered how whoever this "Armand" was knew what my parents' reactions would be, I looked down to see the fox gazing at me intently. Guessing that he wanted some sort of answer, I nodded. The fox nuzzled my hand affectionately and ran off, which puzzled me greatly; he seemed to like me and the note did just tell me he would stay, after all. I shrugged, figuring that he was probably just hungry, and hurried back home to show the letter to Kendric and, with his help, plan out a good way to break the news to my parents.



(Part 4 can be found here.)

Adventures of a Young Messenger - A Gift from a Fox (Part 2)

Part 2 - A Gift from a Fox
(Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6)


A narrative telling of the events that occurred in August 689CC

It was on a warm, clear summer night shortly before my eleventh birthday when I first met the fox who was to become my companion for the short time I was barred from the outdoors. Why was I so forbidden? Because my fool of a father feared that one of his sons would become a druid, which he ranked just above musician and well under gardener, who he considered to at least be useful. You can't have a member of the aristocracy stooping so low, of course.

I had been staring into the distance at nothing, musing about how I could get away and become something other than what my family had planned for me (yes, tall thoughts for a child, but this was frequently on my mind), when shrill yipping pulled me out of my reverie. Looking around, I spotted a large fox barking at one of the stray cats that occasionally joined me on my secret walks. The poor cat looked ... well, when I later thought back to it, she looked confused rather than frightened, but my reaction was to scoop her up in my arms to put her out of reach of the much larger opponent. Shouting to the fox as loudly as I dared (not wanting to bring any notice to the fact that I was where I shouldn't be), I demanded that it go away. That sounds strange, but I've always had a way with animals and often just talking to them would get them to do what I wanted. This time, however, not only did I not scare the fox off, it sat down in the grass and stared at me with far more intelligence that I'd even seen in a wild animal. It was as if the gaze was reading me, or weighing me for something. That eerie action flustered me, and for some reason I tried to hide that fact by whispering soothing words to the cat and pretended to ignore the fox.

Time passed; it couldn't have been more than a few seconds but it felt like far longer, when suddenly, not sensing those keen eyes on me any longer, I looked up to find that the fox had vanished. He could have ran away, I suppose, but that didn't seem quite right. The cat jumped out of my arms and began sniffing where the fox had been sitting- that was when I noticed that the cat was confused, not frightened or worried. As I stood there, rather bewildered, the cat noticed something on the ground shining in the moonlight and began to paw at whatever it was. I walked over and picked it up, finding it to be a small, flat piece of amber. I held it up to the moonlight to get a better look and saw that inside was a tiny, flawless feather. I'd spent much of my life outdoors and never had I found a stone or the like to be so perfectly formed, so I stuck it in my pocket to get a better look at later. The cat seemed to approve of this action because she rubbed against my leg as I put it in my pocket, then followed me back to the house.

The next day, feeling like I should keep this treasure a secret but wanting someone's opinion, I revealed it to my brother Kendric and explained what had occurred the night before. Not knowing much (okay, nothing) about rocks or things found outdoors, he could only shrug, but added, "Cyn, that sounds uncanny. I wouldn't tell anyone else if I were you". Ken was well aware of what had happened when my family learned of me sneaking off to spend time with animals, and knew that telling them that I still did so would just get me into deeper trouble.

I began wearing the amber knotted on a length of cord tucked under my shirt where it has remained ever since, and, at the good advice of my older brother, told no one else.

(Part 3 can be found here.)

Adventures of a Young Messenger - The Black Sheep (Part 1)

Part 1 - The Black Sheep
(or is it "red fox"?)
(Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6)



A narrative telling of the events that occurred in August 689CC

I don't often talk about my family and there's a good reason for that: I'm the black sheep. That idiom is oddly appropriate as it is animal-related, but I'll get to that later.

You would think that in a prestigious, aristocratic family, it would be a given that the youngest son would enter some sort of priesthood. In my family that was not so. Well, I suppose that it did work out to be the case, but it wasn't what my father intended, which was for all of his sons to follow in his footsteps and become warriors of some sort. His plan seemed to be working fine as my eldest brother, Osric, happily went off to serve as a page and just as enthusiastically became a knight when he reached the appropriate age, then slid gracefully into the position of landholder when our father passed the estate on to him. Next was Kendric, who, while not quite as enthusiastic as Os, managed to find his niche in the army and is now currently serving as a lieutenant at the castle town. Even our sister Bryn fit into the scheme by marrying an officer.

And then there was me. I never had any interest whatsoever in learning how to fight, which caused no end of trouble. Ken is only a year older, so we had most of our lessons at the same time, and of all my siblings he's the one I'm closest to. He didn't understand why I wanted to sneak off, but he was always up for causing some sort of distraction (okay, trouble) so I could get away from the kinds of lessons that I hated. Eventually our tutors in those subjects stopped bothering to look for me, figuring that since I was the youngest son, I would probably just end up doing something scholarly anyway. That is what I excelled at; by nine I could read anything in the (rather sparse) library and was much further advanced than either of my brothers when it came to logic, reading, and numbers.

Although not pleased by my aversion to what he deemed important, my father would likely have let this slide (my having two more important brothers to occupy his time) if it wasn't for the fact that my family eventually realized why it was that I was sneaking off from the strategic and weapons-training lessons: to spend time in the wooded areas around our land, talking to the animals. Even then, when I couldn't speak with them in words yet, they were still better company than most of the humans around me. I suppose that I was fortunate to be so ignored that no one noticed this until I was ten, which was when the second shoe subsequently dropped. After my father loudly exclaimed things along the lines of "no son of mine will be one of them druids!", I was pretty much exiled from the outdoors. Life would have been entirely boring had I obeyed, but I found a way to sneak out almost every night (with Ken's help again, of course- I could have been found talking to a tree stump or a rock, and he wouldn't have thought any less of me). After a while a large, vibrantly colored fox began joining me on my evening walks and then... well, that's a story in and of itself, so I'll tell that later. Suffice it to say that just after my eleventh birthday I was Called by Hermes.

The next day during breakfast I proudly walked up to my parents and informed them that I was now under Hermes' jurisdiction and would be entering His nearest mosque in Woodland. The looks on their faces were priceless! There was some mumbling (mostly along the lines of "Hermes? Couldn't you have picked a more stately god?" by my mother and "What's this 'jurisdiction' thing?" by my father) of course, but my parents were at least smart enough to know that getting on the wrong side of any deity (even one they deemed "working class") would be a Bad Idea and so sent me on my way.

Over the years, I've largely patched up the relationship with my family, but I doubt I'll ever be particularly close to any of them besides my one brother; Os and Bryn are nice enough people, in their own ways, but they were too much older than me to really be anything more than distant acquaintances. As an adult, the main problem is that I'm still far too different from my kin; I have no interest in the small things that they consider important and they don't understand how I can be happy with the path I took. I do have to say, however, that I appreciate the fact that Ken enjoys a good practical joke. I suppose there is always one bright part to every family, no matter how unpleasant the rest may be.

(Part 2 can be found here.)

((Meri here. I'm going to be writing up these stories about Cyneric every so often, so look for more soon. I miss writing and this'll be good practice for the creative/fictional kind. :) ))