tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-369101282011-09-08T09:12:47.853-07:00<b>By Barbara Turner Leal <br>and Mindy Toomay </b><br><br><br>A questing tale in two parts, <br>in which Prince Taraval travels afar <br>to solve the mystery that could save <br>the kingdom of Ilahee. His allies include <br>an enchanted lute, a bumbling sidekick, <br>and a powerful sorceress. <br><br><br>Still, he may not survive the journey. <br><br><br><i>Copyrighted material. <br>All rights reserved.</i><br><br><br>Painting by Oscar Penalber http://artbyoscar.comMindy T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16967888739796613416noreply@blogger.comBlogger451100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36910128.post-13209196998130214622007-01-09T22:17:00.000-08:002007-01-09T22:19:37.936-08:00

It was a short walk down the hill to the village, where the fair booths – what remained of them at this late hour – were scattered across the village square.Few fresh foods remained, but Taraval was able to buy a good supply of dried meat, cheese, and fruit. His greatest luck was in finding a new waterskin and a well worn but still serviceable pack to carry their supplies in, at considerably less

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Hastily they remounted and forged northward once more. Segway tried to renew his pleasantries with Lisa, but she was distracted, and he noticed that she kept glancing back over her shoulder with an anxious face, as if she expected to see the fat-bellied tracker hard upon them. Soon her fearfulness affected him, too, and when they passed a thicket a sudden screech and a frenzy of wing flapping

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Taraval and Segway took turns standing watch during the night, until their exhaustion and the fast-dipping temperature drove them to find what warmth they could curled back to back in a corner of their roofless shelter. In the morning they were surprised to find a light dusting of snow on their blankets.“Snow so soon bodes for an early winter,” Lisa remarked, and her words chilled Taraval even

Mindy T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16967888739796613416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36910128.post-1166310427097550892006-12-16T15:04:00.000-08:002006-12-16T15:07:07.110-08:00

Segway dismounted and hesitantly walked up to his young master. “What is it, m’lord?”Taraval held out the branch he had plucked from the tree. “Look,” he said. Segway took the branch and saw that the leaves were wilted and turning black around the edges.The boy didn’t understand. “But it’s just a broken branch,” he said. “That’s why it’s dying.”“No, Segway,” Taraval replied, “it I broke off a

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Moments later, Taraval felt the spell of the music lifting. The three villains appeared to be still hopeless with laughter under Featherbroom’s influence, but whether this had been so for hours or minutes, he had no idea. Quickly he relieved them of their swords and unbuckled Red Hair’s scabbard, then he hastened to his fallen companion and dismounted to examine the boy. He knelt and touched

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Taraval jerked his sword from its sheath and parried a blow from the horseman in blac, who drew back to make another charge on him. “Segway! Run! Go back!” Taraval cried.“I’ll help, m’lord!” Segway yelled back. “I’ll get rocks!”Rocks! He’s daft, thought Taraval as Segway turned and spurred Festinalentay toward a rockpile near the crevice they had come through, but the other two horsemen were upon

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The next morning at sun-up, Taraval was ready to set off in search of Ansel’s lone ravenwood tree. Segway begged to go along. The thought of Festinalentay’s lagging pace made Taraval reluctant at first, but his doubts about Ansel convinced him it would be safer if he took Segway with him, as well as the lute. Mistress Witherspoon released the boy from his chores and he ran off to the stable to

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Within half an hour Taraval was ready to go seeking Ansel the woodcutter. He strapped on his sword, and though he debated leaving the lute in Segway’s care, the recollection of Featherbroom’s warning before the rock slide made him decide to take it with him.As he slid the lute into its case, there was a sudden explosion of screeching sounds from inside.“What is it, Mistress Featherbroom?” he said

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When he reached the inn, Taraval went immediately to his room, where he sat on his narrow cot with his head in his hands, trying to subdue his anger. After a while he pulled the lute form its case and held it across his knees, stroking the satiny surfaceof the tandaril wood. It was a magnificent instrument and he would never consider selling it, even if it hadn’t a trace of magic in it. Its magic

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When he had completed his round of the marketplace he saw that Philip Carbold had set up his leather booth and was waiting on a customer. With a knot of apprehension that sat in the pit of his stomach like a cold rock, Taraval stood to one side of the stall, prepared to wait his turn. But to his surprise, Carbold turned the customer over to his apprentice when he caught sight of Taraval and

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Taraval slept restlessly and was awakened at dawn by a rustling sound from inside the lute. It lay on the chest by the window, where he had placed it after making his peace with Featherbroom the night before. He thought at first that she was merely being peevish again, but then he saw that the lute lay near the partially open shutter, and there was an unaccustomed chill in the air.He picked up

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After Segway returned to the stables, Taraval carefully placed the lute on the chest by the window, leaving the shutter open a crack. Then he blew out the candle, put on his nightshirt, and lay in bed, admiring the satiny luster of the lute in the thin shaft of moonlight. He had almost drifted off to sleep when he heard a light tap at his door.Surprised, he opened the door and found Lisa standing

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After the patrons had left, Taraval went to his room. Segway, full of questions, followed him. Taraval set their candle on the chest by the window, then they sat on opposite ends of the narrow cot, gazing in awe at the remarkable lute laid between them.“Master Taraval,” said Segway, his blue eyes round with excitement, “what happened to me in there? I saw it with my own eyes, and felt it, too,

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Taraval began playing and singing the first peaceful song that came to mind, a lullaby his mother had crooned to him when he was a baby. At first the lute seemed resistant to his touch, but gradually it began to soften – the way a baby relaxes after it’s been fed – and soon the strings were responding to his touch as if they knew the notes before he did. As the sweet strains of music filled the

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Taraval despaired – what had he done? Why did this strange lute seem to be playing him, and not the other way around? Was the tandaril wood itself responsible? A single thought gripped him: Only with his lute could he earn the money he needed to continue on his quest, and if he let this audience walk out, no one would ever come back to give him a second chance.In an instant he vaulted a now empty

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During the dinner hour the dozen inn guests were joined gradually by local patrons, who gathered in groups of four or five, chatting with one another and calling out greetings to friends across the room. While the meal was being served, Taraval wandered around the room playing soft, wordless melodies, so that the patrons could have their fill of talking. As he moved from table to table, he

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“Waterskin and pack? I’ve sold my last. I’d have to make new ones,” said Philip Carbold when Taraval described to him the items he wanted to buy. The man’s voice was hard as stone; his piercing eyes met Taraval’s, then took in his worn clothing and finally strayed to his lute. “You have money to pay for them?”“How much will you charge?”Carbold gave him a figure that exceeded by far the amount of

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The sign over the door of The Hanged Man was a strange one. It showed a man dangling upside down from a gallows, tied by his left ankle, with his right foot crossed beneath his left knee. Tucked under his bound arms were bags from which gold and silver coins spilled. Yet there was a smile on his face and a look of calm. Taraval adjusted the lute on his shoulder and said, “Perhaps the falling

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By this time they had reached the main road, which followed the route of the slow, meandering river that snaked through the well-tended farmlands. They passed several apple orchards, the trees hung with ripening fruit, and here and there they saw thatched cottages, and peasants hoeing in the fields. High in the sky above this idyllic setting a hawk wheeled. Suddenly it swooped to earth, snatching

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For two days, the travelers followed the new trail, which was not marked on Terwilliger’s maps. It headed northeast, and Taraval hoped that once they reached the crest of the mountains it would veer back and rejoin the northern route, or they would find a fork that headed due north again. But they passed the crest and descended into scrubby, rolling hills dotted with groves of stunted oaks –

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Taraval’s mouth was dry, his thirst unquenched by the single swallow of water. Had he been along, he might have helped himself to another draught, but he knew that with both of them nipping at their meager water supply, it wouldn’t last the day. And when they came to a town, he thought, he would have to dip into his scant hoard of coins to buy the boy a waterskin and other supplies. These

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When Taraval woke at sunup, he found that Segway had already brewed tea over a small fire, saddled the horses, and picked a handful of wild raspberries to supplement their scant morning meal. Perhaps having a page would be a boon after all, he thought as he washed his face and hands at the little spring.After a quick breakfast he checked the boy’s wrist and was relieved to see that the swelling

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For more than an hour, Taraval descended through thickening stands of larch that gradually became dotted with mountain ash trees, heavily clustered with winged seed pods, and finally with broad-leaved sweet chestnuts, still hung with a few furry catkins. The sun, which had seemed to hover on the horizon longer than usual, plunged suddenly below it, leaving a few wispy clouds tinged briefly with

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Tressiter’s hooves struck sparks from the rock as the horse picked his way down the rough trail along the edge of the ravine. The saddle creaked as Taraval turned and looked back over his shoulder. Behind him loomed the mountains he had passed through, forbidding but at the same time comforting, for in their depths lay Ilahee and home, and all the things in life he knew.Three hours ago he had

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“Wait!” Taraval gripped the gypsy’s wrist before she could gather up the cards. “I paid you what you asked. You promised you would tell me about the woman in the green dress.”“I said only that I would tell your fortune, and I have done that.”Taraval looked at the cards lying face down within the curve of her arm, and a hot ache filled his chest. If four had told him this much, what might the

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“You can let Tonio go now,” she said. Taraval’s eyes met the gypsy woman’s and he stared incredulously. She knew this boy! Had she told him to steal Taraval’s purse and bring it to her? He looked down at the captive thief, now pliant under his grip. “Begone with you,” he said sternly, standing up and yanking the boy to his feet. “And mend your ways.”The boy flashed Taraval a mischievous grin

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The solidity of the pouch was comforting, and Taraval was convinced he was only minutes away from finding the gypsy woman and having his fortune told. But the minutes stretched into an hour as he made an orderly circuit of the fair, checking and re-checking inside and behind every booth, only to find no more sign of the gypsy than when he had searched for her that morning. The sun sank lower,

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The two men shook hands, the log beneath their feet wobbling a little. Taraval’s opponent gave him a cocky grin, as if to say, “I’ll beat you, royalty or not.” The handshake was a powerful one, and at close range Taraval saw that the youth had the advantage of being half a head taller and at least a stone heavier than himself. His confidence wavered, but only for a moment.Since childhood, one of

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Before Taraval could recover from his astonishment and respond, the gypsy woman was gone in the swirling current of fairgoers. He plunged into the throng after her, craning his neck to catch sight of the shimmering rose and gold and silver of her gown.His heart pounded as he darted among the crowd, teased by fleeting flimpses of dark hair and golden skin that then disappeared like mist at sunrise

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Though the wares for sale reminded him of Ilahee’s poverty, much of the pleasure of the fair was the entertainment. That, fortunately, could be enjoyed for free, though he had set aside a few small coins of his own to drop in the various hats passed around by the entertainers. First he joined a crowd gathered round a juggler who tossed three blue wooden balls along with two bright red apples,

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The little group broke camp before sunup and set off on their final hour’s trek. Taraval had wakened with a headache, his mind heavy with images of blackened ravenwood groves and his mother’s face, taut with worry about the coming winter. But as they neared Trent and the road became clogged with other fairgoers, his spirits began to lighten. The artisans and merchants walking and riding the

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The little group broke camp before sunup and set off on their final hour’s trek. Taraval had wakened with a headache, his mind heavy with images of blackened ravenwood groves and his mother’s face, taut with worry about the coming winter. But as they neared Trent and the road became clogged with other with other fairgoers, his spirits began to lighten. The artisans and merchants walking and

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Taraval and Terwilliger laid out their bedrolls off to one side of the encampment, in a patch of honey-scented woodruff. The elder settled himself into his bed, shifting this way and that to find a place where the hard ground would feel softer to his stiff old body. Finally reconciling himself to discomfort, he lay quiet for a while.Taraval Stretched out, his head resting on his hands, and

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Sunup found Taraval in the village square, where a little caravan of wagons had already assembled, loaded with the last of Ilahee’s meager treasures. Waiting by the wagons were Uncle Terwilliger and the five village craftsmen – Jonthan, Peter, Bramwell, Kenneth, and Andrew – who had been selected to represent the others and sell their wares for them.“What happened, Nephew?” Terwilliger asked in

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When he finished his songs, Taraval caressed the lute for a moment, then set it down reverently, as if it were a sacred object. “Dear Uncle,” he said in awe, turning to Terwilliger, “it sounds like the music of angels!”A rapturous look transformed Terwilliger’s face. “Ah, Taraval, how many years it’s been since last I heard the magical sound of a tandaril lute. Just hearing you play those songs

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Taraval made haste the following morning so as to arrive early at his uncle’s workshop. The squeak of the gate aroused Timotheus, the dormouse that lived beneath the garden wall. The handsome little creature, with a black stripe from eye to ear, ventured out for the tidbit he knew Taraval would have for him, then, chirping softly, scurried back to his next under the wall. Taraval found

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After his lessons, Taraval set off with long strides down the hedgerow toward the stables. He had not ridden Tressiter since he’d heard the news about the ravenwoods, and he knew the horse needed exercise, blight or not.His step was a little lighter and quicker now than it was before the lessons, for Friar Biophilus had told him something that carried a faint ray of hope. There was one small

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Taraval felt as dizzy as if he had been spinning and there was a sour taste in his mouth. It was the first time he had ever defied his parents or had sharp words with his mother, and he felt both anger at their plans for him and shame at his own behavior. When he passed the kitchen courtyard, Felicity noted the storm in his eyes and the hard set of his mouth. She silently handed him a nut loaf

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Queen Juliana absently rubbed at the salt cellar for several moments before turning her troubled blue eyes to her son. “Taraval, your father and I have made a decision. When you come back from Trent, we want you to prepare to make another trip – to Tarnower.”Taraval nodded, feeling puzzled. The kingdom of Tarnower, a day’s journey down the mountain to the east, was much wealthier than Ilahee, for

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Green shadows in a green shade, emerald light filtering through translucent leaves, the air frothing white and green, like the cascade of a waterfall. In the center the woman stood, the essence of greenness, her silken dress and wimple the color of birch leaves. She turned green eyes upon him, and her lips formed his name – “Taraval, Taraval.”A familiar chattering woke Taraval in the silver light

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Trembling, Taraval walked across the storeroom and knelt in front of the glowing chest. He started to touch it but then, without willing it, drew back his hand and stood up again. What was it that made him feel so strangely, as if something were drawing him to the chest and at the same time pushing him back?He saw now that the lock, which he was sure had been fastened a moment ago, was hanging

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Terwilliger led the way into his large, cool shop. Displayed on the walls were many finished instruments – lutes, lyres, harps, and dulcimers – and laid out on several tables were others in various stages of assembly.Taraval loved his uncle’s workshop and had spent countless hours here as a child, playing with the lutes and harps. He had always loved to watch his uncle’s careful crafting of the

Mindy T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16967888739796613416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36910128.post-1162413621526976032006-11-01T12:24:00.000-08:002006-11-06T21:12:51.386-08:00

Taraval kissed his mother's cheek and set out for Terwilliger's shop, which was at the top of the hill at the far end of the village that lay below the castle. He loved walking to see his uncle, for all the villagers were craftspeople and artisans -- most of them instrument makers like his uncle, and all of them musicians -- so night and day music poured from the cottages, full melodies as well

Mindy T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16967888739796613416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36910128.post-1162329253459529782006-10-31T12:44:00.000-08:002006-11-19T19:40:30.370-08:00

Taraval awoke with the first cock-crow from the village. Swinging back the heavy draperies that hung round his bed, he leaped up and crossed the cold stone floor barefoot. He flung open the shutters and looked from his high window across the valley of Ilahee to the rocky peaks in the east. The late summer sun had already cleared the horizon, and a shaft of golden light cut through the gloom of

Mindy T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16967888739796613416noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36910128.post-1162326784199326492006-10-31T12:25:00.001-08:002006-11-24T15:27:50.413-08:00

In the dark hour before dawn, Taraval dreamed of a blue glowing light and of something that stung his hand like fire. Had he remembered the dream upon waking, he might have known it for a sign of things to come -- of the year-long quest that would take him to the lands just below the northern lights in pursuit of the wind, and the fog, and the stars. But the dream, as fleeting as a sigh,

Mindy T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16967888739796613416noreply@blogger.com1