KYLLEN
Hiking through the wetlands was tricky. The river split and branched into smaller arms that merged some distance downstream only to split again. In addition, independent creeks and ponds interspersed the land. Some were shallow enough to wade through. Some required a real effort to cross.
Kyllen wasn’t thoroughly familiar with this part of his father’s estate, but he had enough general skill and knowledge about navigating wetlands on foot to find a most passable path without much difficulty. Even with the practically blinded Amira in tow, he moved at a decent speed.
Amira kept up without a complaint, but he knew she must be getting tired. They both needed food and rest soon.
He’d chosen to go downstream because if the river was Elgrall, as he believed it was, then the High Lord’s palace would be in the direction of the current. It lay in the spot where the Elgrall River bloated into Layahi Bay, which shouldn’t be too far away.
Chances were, of course, that no one at the palace would know who he was. He didn’t expect to be welcomed “home” with open arms, but he hoped to find some food and shelter there, at least for a little while. He didn’t have much to bargain with, but there was always a chance to strike a deal.
A faint sound of music drifted over the water.
He strained his hearing.
It was a flute. A stringed instrument accompanied it, possibly a lute. The wetlands weren’t the best place for a group of musicians to practice their craft. Unless they were a part of a travel party, playing for the entertainment of someone affluent enough to pay for their talent and skill.
He hurried along the river bank, staying hidden behind the trees.
The music got louder as the travel party got closer.
Peeking from behind the trees, he saw them enter the river from a wide side arm. An entire flotilla of paddle boards surrounded several larger vessels. The last one carried a carcass of a river moose, already gutted but not skinned.
The biggest boat held a seat draped in hunter-green velvet embroidered with the Ellohi coat of arms. The man sitting in it looked eerily familiar.
Kyllen needed to get closer.
“Amira, darling, you’ll have to stay here for a little while.” He led her to a large willow tree at the water's edge and helped her sit down on one of the gnarly roots arching above the wet ground.
“What’s happening, Kyllen?” she asked quietly, matching his lowered tone.
“I’ll need to go talk to that fancy hunting party over there. But I don’t want them to see you. Not yet.” Not until he knew exactly who these people were. “Just stay here and be as quiet as I know you can be. I’ll come back for you soon.”
“Okay.” She folded her hands in her lap obediently, and he kissed her cheek.
“I won’t be long.”
Without Amira in tow, he easily caught up to the hunting party and got ahead of them, all while remaining unseen by them. Climbing on a fallen tree that had tipped over the stream, he strolled along its trunk to meet the flotilla head on.
“Greetings!” he shouted, spreading his feet wide for balance and propping his hands on his hips.
Spotting him, the guards paddled back to front, fighting the current that slowly carried them toward him. That slowed the flotilla down. With a stroke of a paddle, a guard on a stand-up board advanced forward. He wore the palace uniform in the colors of sage and gold.
“State your name and business,” the guard demanded.
The man was not someone Kyllen recognized, and he was no fool to give his name just to anyone.
“I’m a traveler. Returning to Lorsan after a long absence. I’d like to offer my services to the High Lord of Ellohi.”
“Your name,” the guard insisted.
Behind the group of guards on the boards, a movement on the main boat caused a commotion. The man in the seat of the High Lord rose to his feet. The people in his boat rushed to his side, grabbing his arms for support.
“Kyllen.” The name rasped in the air like a rustle of dry leaves.
The guards slid aside with their boards, parting to let the main boat through.
Kyllen peered intently at the man standing upright in the boat, supported by his people on both sides.
Could it be? Could he be so lucky as to not only return to his father’s lands but also to the time when his father was alive?
The boat moved closer.
The face of the High Lord bore the clear signs of aging. The dark-green pattern of dehydration was sharp and prominent both on his senties and his hands, leaching onto his face, too. The mortal drought of aging had sat in.
The man’s face bore Kyllen’s family features, but it wasn’t his father.
“Kyllen. Brother.” The High Lord spread his arms. “You came back.”
“Udren?” His little brother, who had been only sixteen years old when Kyllen was taken, was now an old man, clearly standing at the threshold of death already.
A much younger man at the High Lord’s side glared at Kyllen. “Brother?”
Udren swept his hand between the two of them. “Bherlon. This is Kyllen. Your uncle.”
Uncle? He had a nephew, now?
The High Lord turned to his guards. “Let him come here.”
With another stroke of a paddle, the boat slid close enough for Kyllen to jump from the tree trunk into it. He landed right in front of his brother.
“You haven’t changed a bit.” The old man smiled. “Just as fast and agile as you’ve ever been.”
“Udren…” He stared at his brother, lost for words.
Centuries had passed in Lorsan, taking a toll on Udren. He was an old, fragile man now. His entire life had passed while Kyllen was away.
“Father and mother?” he asked, not harboring much hope.
“Both are long dead,” Udren replied.