Tevanon and Kensic: Turlot

By Tyson Clarke

Upon the shores of the Laughley Sea, in the shadows of the jagged Northland Mountains and not so far south as the blistering Aronee Desert, there exists a land of lush forests and golden plains. This land is known as Lynsid, a once great nation that has suffered through more than a decade of demoralizing wars. The brothers Tevanon and Kensic were born to Lynsid like their parents and grandparents before them. They know no other life and have never been outside the borders of their homeland. Lynsid, however, is on the verge of collapse and rumors of a Vlagen invasion spur a mass migration. At first, the brothers have no intention of leaving their birthplace, but soon enough they have no choice and find themselves on the trail to a land called Turlot where their Great Uncle Welksley resides.

At just thirteen-years-old, Tevanon is already highly skilled in swordsmanship, and his nine-year-old brother Kensic is mentally gifted. These attributes are useful, but the journey to Turlot will test not only their brawn and brains, but also their faith and tactfulness. The brothers learn quickly the world is filled with endless adversity. Treachery is in plain sight, evil sorcery is silently stirring, and an immortal army is lying in wait! If the brothers wish to survive, they must be vigilant, they must be brave, and they must believe in themselves.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tyson Clarke
• Release date: Oct 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9780996816915

Tyson Clarke

Tyson Clarke attended San Jose State University where he studied creative writing and film production. Post graduation, he found success as a technical writer then pursued other interests before rediscovering his passion for writing stories with encouragement from his wife and biggest fan. Tevanon and Kensic is his fifth book and while he has plans to write many more he is currently busy with his two children who seem to find ways to pull him away from the blank page!

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Upon the shores of the Laughley Sea, in the shadow of the jagged Northland Mountains and not so far south as the blistering Aronee Desert, there existed a land of lush forests and golden plains. This land was known as Lynsid, a once great nation that had suffered through more than a decade of demoralizing wars. War had ravaged the landscape, the economy, and the people so much so that migration was occurring in droves. The king did nothing. He was well past his prime and no longer possessed the vision or the vigor to lead a people to greatness. And so, the nation of Lynsid, a once mighty kingdom, flailed to exist.

In its prime, Lynsid had been a haven of glorious cities from the sea to the mountains, a nation that every other nation sought to imitate, but that was no longer. What remained was a cesspool of impoverished shantytowns and a breeding ground for criminals of every kind. The Lynsidian people had always been a proud lot, devoted to their place of origin and loyal to their king. But even the proudest people can lose faith, and after ten years of witnessing the slow demise of their once great nation, the people of Lynsid could no longer see a way back to the glorious days of the past. Thus, the mass migration began; entire villages were vacated, farms and ranches were left to rot away, and much of the army was lost to men unwilling to die for a wasted cause. After several years of a rapidly declining population, all that was left was the remains of a glorious time when Lynsid was a nation not to be reckoned with.

Still, there were those who refused to abandon their homeland. They were the true Lynsidians, loyal to the end, and never doubting their nation would once again rise to greatness. Mira was one of the loyalists. She was born in Lynsid, spent all of her life in Lynsid, and she married an honorable Lynsidian soldier. She believed it her destiny to die in Lynsid as her parents had, and her sister and her husband. Mira had lost near all of her family during the decade of war ravaged Lynsid and more than once she herself was nearly killed at the hands of an invading army. Her time among the living had not yet expired though, and she did not brood over death, for she had two sons to raise, and she intended to raise them up big and strong like their father would have expected.

Kensic! shouted Mira. Tevanon! Supper is ready! She didn't wait for them and turned back inside the small hut where a man was seated at a circular wooden table. He wasn't much older than Mira although his graying beard and tired expression suggested otherwise.

The boys can help you with the harvest tomorrow, said Mira.

Very good, replied the man. His name was Yelob, and he was the owner of the hut Mira called home. He was also Mira's brother, a farmer who was once a soldier until he suffered a crippling blow to his left leg that left him with a hobbling limp. His limited mobility led to his discharge from military service, and he had no choice but to find another livelihood. That was ten years ago, and for all of those years Yelob had been a potato farmer.

Yelob was the only family that Mira had left in Lynsid. After her husband’s death, she had nowhere to go and no way to support her two young sons. She went to her brother, and as she stood on his doorstep with six-year-old Tevanon and two-year-old Kensic, Yelob could hardly turn her away. In hindsight, he was glad that he didn't. Mira was a hardworking woman and took on many of the chores Yelob was not so fond of, specifically cooking, sewing, and laundry. Her contribution allowed Yelob more time to tend to the farm, and when Tevanon reached the age of seven he was expected to help his uncle with simple chores such as weeding the fields and trapping gophers. Kensic too would follow this path.

With help from Mira and her boys, the rather shabby farm that Yelob had struggled to make profitable turned into a farm that could support a family, which allowed for the purchase of new linens and beef that was typically uncommon outside the upper class. Yelob was pleased with his good fortune, but he would not have wished such a life upon anyone and most especially those he cared about most. He had only become a farmer because he was unfit to continue as a soldier. In his heart, however, he had never been anything but a great warrior of the Lynsid army. And that was what he wanted for his nephews who were the sons of Cordon, a mighty soldier and well-respected sergeant of Lynsid. In honor of his sister and her late husband, Yelob took it upon himself to train Kensic and Tevanon in combat, both with a weapon and without.

Tevanon barged into the hut, his long brown hair swaying over his burgundy tunic that hung below the waist of his goat hide pants. He was big for thirteen, already taller than most grown men and easily as strong. Tevanon was molded after his father who was a huge man with great physical strength. Uncle Yelob! he shouted. Can we practice sword fighting?

Is the east field clear of weeds?

Yes, sir!

And what of the gophers?

One of them is hanging outside!

I killed it with my new gopher trap! Kensic shouted as he jumped out from behind Tevanon. Other than his clothing and his brown hair, Kensic had few physical similarities to his brother. He was small, nearly half the size of an average nine-year-old, which led to his being confused for a much younger boy.

I see, said Yelob with no hint of a smile despite feeling a surge of pride in the young son of his sister. And what of the rest of the gophers?

We found three snakes to release in their tunnels, said Tevanon.

Very well then, we shall practice sword fighting after supper.

I want to practice now! shouted Tevanon, anger and impatience evident even before he balled his hands into fists.

Yelob was well aware of Tevanon’s volatile temper and lack of patience. For years, he’d been trying to curb the boy’s behavior without damaging his warrior spirit and enthusiasm for learning the various forms of combat. Tevanon, must I tell you again to be mindful of your tone, to be in control of your emotions.

Tevanon looked away. The words of his uncle were all too familiar, but still he struggled to live by them. Alright… alright, fine. We will train after supper.

I for one can’t wait to eat! said Kensic as he slipped by his brother and sat down at the table.

Mira set a bowl of rabbit stew before him. Eat up, Kensic, she said as she continued to fill three more bowls.

I do enjoy rabbit stew.

Tevanon joined Kensic and Yelob at the table, and when Mira sat down only a moment after them, she led them in prayer. Dear Arwaan, said Mira with her head lowered, we thank you for the food we eat, the shelter in which we sleep, and the crop we grow. We pray that you protect us and guide us and give us strength to survive another day. Amen.

Amen, repeated her sons and brother.

After supper, the brothers stood outside the hut while they waited for their uncle. Tevanon’s impatience was steadily creeping up, but he was so far keeping it in check. In the sky, the moon was already showing, and Kensic couldn't help but stare upward at the fading blue sky. He thought about the world and the people in it, his god Arwaan and whether a god paid any attention to the thousands of prayers spoken daily. Do you think Arwaan hears our prayers? Kensic asked his brother.

Of course, replied Tevanon adamantly.

How do you know?

Because I believe in Arwaan. He is my god and he will protect me if I serve him.

Kensic looked away from his brother with a slight frown. He wanted to feel as Tevanon did, but he was skeptical. There seemed so much for a god to be responsible for, how could he possibly take an interest in all the people of the world.

Tevanon eyed his younger brother sensing his doubtful thoughts. Trust me, brother; so long as we are loyal to Arwaan he will be loyal to us.

Yelob stepped out of the hut and jammed a longsword into the ground.

Training has begun.

Yes, sir! shouted Kensic and Tevanon. They had learned at a very young age that their training would be no different from that of the military, and that their Uncle Yelob was the man in charge.

While the brothers stood at attention, Yelob handed a longsword to Tevanon, one that he had never seen. Regardless of its familiarity, Tevanon knew well how to handle a sword and so he squeezed the leather-wrapped grip with both hands, one near the pommel, and the other closer to the cross-guard. He lowered the sword so the steel blade was pointing outward and slightly upward. There was nothing especially aesthetic about the sword. It was plainly a double edged steel blade of considerable length with a hilt composed of a brushed steel cross-guard and pommel to match. The most striking element of the sword was the fanciful letter C that was engraved on the blade near the cross-guard.

Tevanon, said Yelob, you are old enough and skilled enough to have your own sword, and so I give you your father's sword.

Having his own sword was a grand reward in itself, but having his father's sword was enough to bring him to tears. He wiped them away quickly never removing his eyes from the blade that his father wielded many years before him. The C stands for Cordon, yes?

Yelob nodded. He remembered when he fetched the sword from the battlefield where Cordon had been killed. It had lain there for days, and it was only luck that it was still there when Yelob arrived. He knew that Cordon would have wanted his eldest son to have the sword when he reached the proper age. Seven years later, Tevanon had reached that age.

I remember the last time I saw him, said Tevanon. He lifted me in his arms and spun me around. I wanted him to stay forever. His eyes welled again.

There was pain in Yelob’s eyes as well, for he could not remember that last time he’d seen his brother-in-law alive. He could only remember the image of his bloody corpse lying on the battlefield. You are big and strong like he was, and you wield a sword with the same fierceness. Your father is proud of you, from wherever he watches. Honor him with your bravery and your swordsmanship.

Tevanon's face turned stern. I will, and one day I shall fight for Lynsid just as he did.

Yelob smiled proudly then turned his attention to Kensic. And for you young man, I have a weapon as well. He removed the steel dagger from the sheath on his belt.

But this is yours, Uncle.

And I want you to have it.

Well, it is the right length for me.

Yelob laughed heartily. He was fond of Kensic's forthright commentary about his small size. Few young boys could so easily accept such a physical attribute and instead grew resentful and oversensitive. Kensic embraced his undersized stature and never considered it a weakness. He'd been dealt a hand that was quite dissimilar to his brother, and what he lacked in size he made up for in cleverness.

Yelob lowered himself to eye level with his nephew. I will teach you all of its uses.

I would rather study the use of siege weapons, but I shall make an exception.

That is all I ask.

Training commenced and carried on for well beyond the sunset under the flickering light of two torches. For five years, Yelob had been training Tevanon in the ways of a soldier, and the large youth absorbed every lesson. He was aggressive and powerful, swift and calculated. His actions had become instinctive, allowing his mind to be one step ahead of his opponent. He was already a worthy soldier at just thirteen years old, and while many a young man learned to swing a sword, Yelob had known few who were as skilled as Tevanon. There was no question when he reached the age of sixteen, the minimum for military service, he would be welcomed into the Lynsid army.

Kensic had been training for barely a year and he was not nearly the caliber of student that his brother had been. This was not because he was lazy or unintelligent but rather he was uninterested in physical combat. His interest was in engineering, primarily the design and functionality of siege weapons, and he certainly had an aptitude for designing and constructing similar, albeit much smaller, contraptions. At nine years old, of course, he wasn't going to be considered for the king's corps of engineers, and Yelob could teach him little in the ways of engineering. Yelob had spent many a night trying to figure a way to earn the money to send Kensic to a school of engineering, but there was only so much a single family farm could produce, and it was not enough. Thus, Kensic's only option was to learn on his own accord, and that is exactly what he did to the best of his abilities.

Nearing the end of a long training session, Yelob gave one last command as Mira stood in the doorway of the hut and watched her sons mimic the behavior of soldiers. She smiled knowing that Tevanon was molded from the body and mind of his father while Kensic had her stature and intellect. Her sons made her proud and also sad, for they were a constant reminder that her husband was not coming back.

Did you see, mother? shouted Tevanon as he approached the hut. Uncle Yelob gave me father's sword!

You have his stature and you swing a sword strong like he did.

I wish I'd had a chance to know him better.

He will always be in your heart.

Tevanon half smiled then continued into the hut as his brother ambled along behind him lost in his own little world.

And what about you, said Mira, with that dagger?

It suits my size.

And your keen mind.

Oh, mother.

I mean it. We will all be envious when the king appoints you his personal siege engineer.

Kensic chuckled happily before entering the hut, and his happiness brought a smile to Mira's face. She then turned to Yelob who was not smiling, but then he rarely did. I fear for Kensic, he said.

Why?

He is not like Tevanon, not like his father, and he should already be in a specialty school, not the shabby farm school he attends now.

He is but nine years old, he will get there.

If only we could afford to send him to one of the great schools of Lynsid.

Money is not the only way to be noticed.

But it is the easiest.

Perhaps the easy way is not what Arwaan has in mind for Kensic.

Perhaps.

Mira looped her arm around her brother's and guided him into the hut.

CHAPTER TWO

Yelob was up early even before the sun had broken the night sky. He was always anxious on the day of the harvest not unlike when he was a soldier anxious before battle. Farming and military service were similar if thought of from a certain perspective. Both provided a service to the nation, one to protect the people and the other to feed them. Neither could realistically exist without the other, and Yelob took great pride in serving his nation even though he would have preferred to be on the frontline of the battlefield. Not one to dwell on the past, he happily grabbed a stack of canvas sacks and started for the north field where hundreds of leafy potato plants were ready to be harvested.

Tevanon soon joined him and together they sifted through the dirt plucking potatoes and placing them in the canvas sacks. Later on, Kensic and Mira arrived, and for all of the day they worked until the sun fell from the sky and night had taken over.

Yelob threw the last sack of potatoes on the horse cart then made his way into the hut. He was pleased with the work they'd accomplished, but his expression suggested otherwise. The cart's full, he said to Mira. In the morrow, I'm going into town to sell the lot. I'll be back in the afternoon.

The boys and I will continue the harvest.

Very well.

The next morning, Yelob was on the road before sunrise and well before his sister and nephews had awakened. The trip to town would take much of the day, and he didn’t want to waste any time.

At the first sign of the sun, Mira was awake, and like every morning, she set out bread and cheese on the table before she woke her sons. They ate breakfast together then proceeded to the north field to finish the harvest.

Mother, said Kensic before he'd dug out a single potato, I really don't want to dig for potatoes today.

I see, well, you can collect wood for the fire, and the hut needs sweeping, and there is laundry that needs doing.

Kensic's already sour expression soured further.

If none of those chores suit you, I'm sure your uncle would be pleased if you'd weed the east and west fields in preparation for carrot season.

I suppose I'm in no mood to work at all.

Not working is not one of your choices.

Kensic reluctantly got down on his knees and started digging for potatoes.

Your father worked harder on those days in which he didn't want to work, much like Tevanon. She gestured to her oldest son.

Kensic frowned. I think Tevanon uses his anger to work harder.

Well, whatever the case, he reflects your father’s vigorous spirit.

Most days Kensic didn’t mind that Tevanon was most like their father. Other days, however, he found the comparisons to be rather demoralizing. This was one of those days. He was also the son of Cordon, even if he didn’t necessarily look like him or work like him or swing a sword like him. To his mother and uncle though, he seemed to be the son that wasn’t like his father, and that meant he had to work twice as hard to please his dead father.

Tevanon glanced at his brother and smiled. He knew Kensic would much rather have been building another gopher trap. After the harvest you can get back to work on your experimental devices!

Very well, replied Kensic politely, but obviously disappointed.

* * *

By late morning, Mira and her sons had finished the north field. They sat down for a meal before proceeding to work in the smaller south field for the remainder of the day. Yelob joined them when he returned in the afternoon, and with his help, they were able to finish the south field just before suppertime. He told the boys to go eat then loaded the sacks of potatoes into the horse cart in preparation for another trip to town. When he was done, supper was long over, and he entered the hut to find that Mira had kept his meal over the fire; rabbit stew with chunks of potato.

Sit down, Yelob, and rest, said Mira.

He hobbled to a stool and sat down as Mira served him a bowl of stew.

This is not a good year for potatoes.

No?

One silver coin apiece. In past years I've earned two or even three coins per each.

It'll be enough.

With a grunt, Yelob ate some stew then asked, Where are the boys?

I sent them to Ocre’s to deliver a sack of potatoes.

In town, I heard rumblings.

Concern fell upon Mira's face as she sat down across from her brother. It's not good is it?

Yelob's eyes widened with alertness.

What is it? asked Mira.

Did you hear something?

Mira quickly made her way to the entry of the hut. She peered out into the shadowed darkness lit only by two torches. There was nothing but a gentle breeze. Just the wind.

Yelob exhaled loudly. The situation in Lynsid is not good. Our old man of a king has once again decided against securing the southern border. He doesn’t think the Vlagens have an army large enough to conquer Lynsid. The military does not agree.

Does he not trust his own soldiers?

Yelob frowned. It seems he does not.

It seems he no longer cares for his people as well! We are already suffering, and this once great nation is about to fall into nothingness, yet our king makes illogical decisions from deep within a secure castle in the capital city!

Barone is half the city it was just two years ago and nothing like a decade ago. The population is even thinner than it was six months ago, more shops have closed, and I dare say there are few soldiers present. If the Vlagens have raised a large army, I’m certain the worst will soon be upon us.

Then we must prepare ourselves for one last stand.

"You should take your sons and leave this place. Find Uncle Welksley in Turlot; he would be honored to help raise his brother’s